Bad Vibe Champions
by MassEffectMayhem
Summary: If Arek, human adept, and Mojo, turian sniper and jerk, don't want to be kicked out of their squad they better learn to get along! But sometimes things have to go wrong before the stubborn start thinking. And when they do, suddenly, it's up to Arek, Mojo, their asari squad leader Amalthea and squad member No. 4, the turian engineer Meyrani, to stop Cerberus' evil conspiracy plans.
1. Just Another Bad Day

_Author's Note:_

 _Bad Vibe Champion (BVC) is a fanfic about original characters. They aren't Mary Sues or self-inserts, they also aren't any missing brothers or cousins to the canon characters, don't worry. The idea for this fic formed during a multiplayer session with my friend Blastedking, when her male Human Adept kept pulling the targets out of my Turian Ghost Infiltrator's focus just when I was about to headshot them._

 _The story is roughly set during the end of ME2._

 _You'll find here: Humor, drama, action, a tsundere turian, a human male who's everybody's darling, banter, bitching, some classic tropes we all love, maybe some new spins and twists, growing friendship that builds up to more. No smut here because ffnet, but that's what AO3 is for_

 _You should read this story because it has fun, dorky and over-dramatic original characters experiencing an adventure of their own, independent from whatever Shepard's gang might be up to elsewhere in the galaxy. You should also read this if you have a soft spot for male human/male turian relationships and slow build up. Also, so I've been told, some of the side chars are likable._

 _You shouldn't read this story if you don't like male human/male turian relationships, have a deep-rooted hate for ocs no matter how not mary-sue'ish they are, or if you're only interested in fanfics that focus on canon characters being lovey-dovey. You also shouldn't read this if you think that non-native speakers should be banned from writing in English._

 _You should, however, read this if you like "well written characters", like to laugh or to have your heart broken (not my words! I'm more critical, but who am I to disregard the opinions of nice people who took the time to write some nice words!)._

 _Another very important piece of information: The cover was drawn by Blastedking, you can find her on Deviantart and tumblr._

 _Finally, a promise: This is the longest author's note you'll ever see in a chapter of BVC._

 _Well, with that out of the way - read on and have fun!_

"Do you hear me? Meyrani?" A shot cut the air above his head, and Arek swore he felt his hair tingle. A little bit too precise for his liking, and coming from the left stairway – wonderful, if they flanked him from both sides he was in trouble. He took cover behind the door frame of the evacuated lab, and peeked around the corner. "Meyrani? Do you copy? I need a little help!"

"Amalthea here! Meyrani is wounded. Can you come over here?"

He heard the strain in the asari's usually mellow but confident voice. Her words were interrupted by a hail of projectiles – Meyrani's turret. So they were close to that beast of a weapon. Good. If the turian wasn't in the state to keep it going under fire – less good.

"Like I'd ever say no when you call for me." he muttered. A quick glance on his omni-tool gave their position away, close to the shuttle's landing zone. "Other end of this damn place, typical." A window shattered, shards of glass rained into his hiding place.

The good – once he was out here, he'd be at the rendezvous spot in a few minutes. The bad – Cerberus troopers were closing in from one side, more or them from the other side, and he would have sworn he'd spotted at least two red dots searching for his forehead. The ugly – nope, couldn't get much worse than this, unless they brought phantoms. Phantoms. He snorted. More like space ninjas, didn't Cerberus have any pride?

"Thea, any sign of Mojo?" He chuckled at the current of asarian curses. That the translator couldn't catch them told him more about Amalthea's opinion about their sniper than the actual words if he understood them.

"You're sexy when you're pissed." So, what were his options? He had enough strength left for a biotic attack or two. Left way – longer, good spots to take cover, for him and the enemy forces alike. Right way – shorter, and he'd offer himself on a silver plate.

"Move your dumb ass over here, at once!"

"Of course, milady!" Where the fuck was that turian asshole if he – for once – could use his help? "Screw him. Alright, have to get outta here all by my lonely self, so I'll get outta here all by my lonely self."

"Stop monologuing and HURRY! Shuttle's coming!"

"On my way! Oh fuck..." A grenade rolled through the doorway. Smoke bomb!

Coughing, he staggered towards the broken window. Dammit, the filter of his mask was broken, just what he needed right now. Plus, his ankles were hurting. Meyrani was right, he should consider climbing ladders once in a while instead of jumping down, especially without checking what awaited him below. Like the remains of broken furniture.

"There are no problems, only challenges. Come on, kid, don't embarrass the human race now!" He took a deep breath, and dashed towards the window. He catapulted himself forward, a biotic shield flickering around him when he broke through the last intact glass panel.

Arek rolled over the ground and leapt back to his feet – and ran. Amalthea was yelling in his ear, projectiles were buzzing around him, and he almost missed the treacherous humming of a Nemesis' rifle. He dived down and rolled out of the deadly shot's way. Something exploded behind him, but he'd care another day. Throwing a volley of shock waves to his left and right he kept running, counting on his luck that they'd throw some of the troopers off their feet. A slim figure jumped out of her cover, a blue force filed flickering around her.

"To hell with you, space ninja!" he panted behind his helmet. "Come on, come on, just a small one!" He dashed towards the phantom in front of him. At this rate, that jerk just needed to lift her blade and he'd run right into it, unless...

"Hallelujah!" A blue, wavering cloud formed behind the phantom, and pulled her up into the air. The singularity field was weak, and she dropped to the ground only a second after her sword. But that was enough for Arek.

Gathering what strength and breath he had left he sprinted past her.

He jumped around another corner, hearing swift steps behind him closing up.

"YO!" He yelled over the bullets and the shrill yells behind his back. He leapt over a steam pipe, and let himself fall. Rolling on his back, he looked up at the two familiar faces.

The dark eyes of the asari sentinel glared at him, the blue eyes of the turian engineer blinked, and fell shut again. Meyrani was leaning against Amalthea, her left arm covered with a blood-soaked bandage. More blood seeped between the cracks of the armor of her left leg.

"Rani, forget what I ever said about scrap metal. I love your turret, she's a babe, just like you!" Panting, he sat up, and pulled his smg from his back.

The Engineer chuckled, but the sound changed into a pained groan when she tried to retort.

"Bad?"

"Bad enough." Amalthea clenched her fists. Arek wondered if she owed the frightening growl to her krogan father, or if all asari could make this spine-chilling noise. If so, he made a mental note to himself, he better crossed asari worlds from his vacation list.

"Where's the shuttle?" a deep, monotonous voice was ringing in his ears.

"Now, where are YOU coming from, all of the sudden?" Arek spat at the turian.

"Over there." He pointed at the wall of crates behind them. "Too much going on in the passages and yards. Did you do any work at all?" He slumped to the ground next to Arek, stretching his legs. His sniper rifle rested on his lap.

"Listen, you idiot!" Arek jumped to his feet, but a dozen of projectiles flying over his head quickly convinced him to fall back behind their cover.

"Mojo, we could have needed you, either here with Meyrani, or as backup for Arek!" Amalthea's fists were trembling, and Arek feared for a moment she'd repeat his mistake and stand up, just for the satisfaction of shouting down at the turian.

"My job description said nothing about babysitting amateurs. If you can't take care of yourself, go back to the training room, and let the professionals do the work."

"Don't even think you can talk to us like that!" Arek shoved himself between Mojo and Amalthea. There was this sparkle in her eye, and it wouldn't help any of them if she hurled a warp blow at him. Not that the thought wasn't tempting. He almost envied her to have enough strength left for another attack. Well, as he didn't, he'd have to use his common sense.

"Let me guess, you found a nest somewhere in the back, and were counting headshots, right?" He took the lack of a reply as a "yes.". If there was an opportunity, no matter how small, to rub into anyone's face when they were wrong, Mojo wouldn't let it slip.

"Dammit, is it that difficult for your brain to get?" _Maybe it helps if I grabbed your rifle and clobbered it over your head. How would you like that, asshole?_ "We're four against dozens on these special ops, we rely on teamwork! How 'bout pulling yourself together for a change, and add to it?"

"You're the leader now?"

"Uh..."

"Stop preaching then." He lifted his rifle, and looked through the scope. Arek withstood the urge to turn his head around. If Mojo was aiming at something specific, he'd take care of it. If not – he'd let Arek know that he was fooled too easily, and Arek wouldn't promise that he wouldn't try to conjure a warp attack, even if it pulled his own body apart.

"Pah, like you'd listen if I was the leader." If he strangled him now, would anybody convict him? If they knew what he had to put up with day after day? Arrogant son of a bitch who thought he was so much better than the rest of them! Arek would give his left hand for an opportunity to kick Mojo from his high horse.

"You know what? Maybe I'll be the leader! It's not decided yet, and I can tell you square who'd suck at being the leader! Have a hint, he's obnoxious, a millstone around our necks during missions, and he's also ugly!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Oh, come on, now you aren't even trying!"

"As fuzz-face is too busy with prattling,maybe YOU have time tell me where that shuttle is." Mojo nodded at the growling asari.

"Oh, don't worry, Mojo. We're fine. We failed to hack the data protocols, Meyrani is hurt but won't die, and we almost lost Arek because nobody had his back. Thanks for asking."

"The shuttle?"

"Goddess help me..." She looked up into the sky, sending a quick, silent prayer. "I called it, it's coming, and will be here in a few minutes. Happy?"

"If you tell me next time that it takes another while instead of lying, maybe."

"Arek, hold Rani for a moment, I'll-"

Arek rolled from his spot over to the asari. He patted her back, giving an understanding nod. Then he crept along the air duct that buit the last barrier of their hideout, raising his head enough to risk a peek. He thought he had heard the sound of metal stomping on solid ground, and he didn't like it at all.

"Don't waste your breath on our little Miss Sunshine. What do you think reaches us first, our shuttle, or their Atlas? If you win, I owe you dinner."


	2. A Dreaded Meeting

"You know it's a bad sign when you're called to the fleet's admiral himself after a failed mission. Thanks a lot, Mojo." Arak clenched his fists, wishing he could bury them in his pockets. They'd been summoned by the admiral the moment they left the shuttle.

They were still in their armor, covered with dust and blood, and he feared he looked as pathetic as he felt. Partly felt, but he doubted that the boiling anger inside him could be reflected by his battle suit. He'd trade the pay of three months for a shower and slipping into casual clothes. As it was, they had barely time to remove their helmets and protection masks.

Damn this day, he had had a weird feeling about it the moment they had been deployed. The first hour or two had gone well, but then they screwed it. Or rather, Mojo did. Which meant all of them screwed it because they didn't manage to make him a part of the team.

He had been hoping against hope to be assigned as his squad's leader since they'd been put together by the ship's commander two weeks ago. The ship had been engaged in battles and special operations soon after he had boarded it, and there hadn't been time for formalities. It didn't matter, they worked together well without a specific rank order. With one exception.

Mojo or not, once things had gotten a little calmer, and once they had finished a few assignments, there should have been said a final word on that matter.

Meyrani had said from the beginning that she just wanted to do her job for the benefit of the team, but had no interest in leading a group of mixed races.

Amalthea however was a born leader, and she was used to working in multiracial squads. She was strong, smart, and, well, more disciplined than Arek, he had to admit. But only slightly!

Mojo? Out of question. If Arek was honest, being the team's leader, and therefore responsible for Mojo's actions and behavior was nothing to look forward to.

"Sit down," a voice commanded once they stepped into the admiral's office. The three of them took place on three visitor chairs, even the turian followed Admiral Hackett's words.

 _Here we go._ Arek took a deep breath, waiting for the storm that the admiral's calm face promised to break loose. Finally, he was meeting the legend, the admiral of the Alliance Fifth Fleet. Hackett's reputation preceded him, but Arek wasn't in need of the rumours to know what to expect. Stern justice, which would have thrilled him if they hadn't failed the mission.

Dammit, right now, if he had a choice, he'd switch with Meyrani in a heartbeat. Torn flesh, blood loss, and emergency treatment in the sickbay sounded more alluring than sitting here.

"You are members of the fifth fleet. All three of you, as well as Miss Avilius, are here because you're capable fighters, and because your prior superiors assured me you were assets to this war." Hackett spoke with the same calm voice that had asked them in. With his wrinkled face and the gray beard he looked old, and a bit tired, Arek noted. But it was a face mirroring years of experience and responsibility. The admiral's posture still spoke of vigor, and the glare of his eyes made Arek pray that Hackett would never fight on the side of the reapers.

"Missions are won and lost, but it's the _how_ that decides if a fleet is proud of their squad, or ashamed. I doubt I have to tell you what you brought to us today."

God, that was worse than being called to the principle, back in his school days. Arek stopped himself from flinching. He tried to hold his hands still on his lap, but couldn't help clawing his fingers around his mask. If the admiral only sat down, maybe he wouldn't feel like like he was a 13 years old boy.

The speech went on for a little while longer, each word a precise hit against his pride, and his honor as a human, soldier and biotic. He didn't dare to look at Amalthea and Mojo. It wasn't hard to guess, however, to read their faces. Amalthea had enough pride as a soldier for a dozen human veterans, and Mojo – no, it was for the better that he didn't see Mojo's bored, uncaring expression.

His eyes fixed on the desk in front of him. The simple design had almost fooled him, but unlike most of the ship's interior, it wasn't made of metal. A dark, almost black wood of some kind, Arek wasn't an expert of these things. He was surprised to find an individual piece of furniture in an office that the admiral only visited once in a while, but it was comforting. Despite his straight pose, and his clear-cut words, Hackett was still human.

 _So we'll live!_ He bit on his tongue to hold back a chuckle. _Come on, Arek, this isn't a good moment for silly thoughts and laughter._ Not that he felt like laughing; however, he wished he could do just that. Having a good laugh at their stupidity, go on with life, and do better next time.

"Anything you have to say? Mr. Turner?"

Arek winced at the question. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, casting a glance at the turian.

No. Asshole or not, Mojo had not dragged him down so far that he'd rat out a squad mate. Yet.

"No, Sir," he muttered.

"We won't disappoint you again, Admiral Hackett! Assign another mission to us, any mission, asap, and we'll prove that we are an asset to this war!" Amalthea had jolted up to her feet. Her shoulders were shaking, but her voice was firm as she looked Admiral Hackett straight into his eyes without blinking.

"I hope you are aware there's no other option for you." Hackett nodded at the human and the turian. Arek rose, straightening his back. Mojo followed, slow enough for Arek to wish to punch his face.

"The circumstances are dire with the reapers at our doors. You can thank them, in any other war I would have removed you from the fleet."

Arek and Amalthea exchanged a quick glance. The admiral was right. That they got a second chance wasn't an act of generosity or kindness.

 _Able to think somewhat for yourself, capable of holding a weapon and willing to pull the trigger?_

 _Join the war, have fun, make friends, save the galaxy. In other words – be fed to the reapers, or something like that. Either make a difference, or buy time for those who do._

It wasn't the first time Arek regretted joining this war, but on the other hand, was there really a way to escape it? If he had to go down with everything and everyone, he'd rather do so fighting than hiding. Would also make a better story in case he survived.

"I cannot take responsibility for transferring another engineer to an unstable squad at this point. There's a war happening out there, this is not the time for us to focus on a small team of adults behaving like children.

Commander Crusher is waiting for a status update on Miss Avilius. Depending on how quickly she'll recover, she'll either rejoin you, or the three of you will be transferred to other squads.

Valkyrie Almathea, you're in command of the squad until further notice. Turn this mess into a team and get work _done_ in the future. Dismissed."

A silent trio closed the door of the Admiral's temporary quarter behind them.

"Now, that was awful. I felt like I was 40 again," Almathea groaned once they walked around the first corner. "Listen, I never want to have this happen again, and believe me, I'll make sure it won't!"

"Heard you, boss! No objection from my side." Arek jumped two steps ahead, and blocked Mojo's way. "I swear by my grandmother's ashes, if you keep bringing down the squad with your dumb stunts, you'll regret it!" He poked the turian's chest, an action he regretted the very next moment, when Mojo seized his wrist. The strength of the grip was painful enough to bring a man to his knees, but Arek gritted his teeth. He'd rather have his wrist broken before he only flinched.

"How cute, shorty is threatening me."

"Stop it, both of you!" Amalthea shoved herself between the two men. Mojo let go of Arek, and both stepped apart. "You two won't brawl! Not during a mission, not while in the lounge, and certainly not a few steps away from Admiral Hackett, and that's an order!"

She took a deep breath, fighting against the frown on her face and the growl coming up her throat.

"Okay." She exhaled, and turned towards Mojo. "You! Don't play dumb, you know very well that you're the reason why we're the only squad in the whole fleet that doesn't work as a team. You don't want to pull your weight on your own account, fine! But you'll listen to my orders whenever we're on duty! When I order you to go with Arek and have his back during a raid, you'll make sure that not even a dust particle hits him, understood? Good," she added when he shrugged.

"Ha, well spoken. I'll pray for a sandstorm next time, so better polish your scope." Arek's chuckle broke off when Amalthea's head snapped around and her dark glare pierced right through his eyes into his brain.

"Arek Turner, for the Goddess' sake, shut up! The situation is hard on all of – yes, ALL of us!" she hissed in response to Mojo's snort. "And you're not making it easier, so here's my order for you: Stop provoking him! No threats, no mocking, no gloating. If there's nothing nice to say, keep your mouth shut!"

"Oh, come on, Thea, if I was that bad I'd have told on him back there with the Admiral!"

"How generous of you." Mojo gave a dry laugh, and took a mock bow. "I'm almost glad I didn't tell him about your incompetence and inappropriate behavior during missions and towards the squad."

"I'm so very proud of both of you." Almathea shook her head, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "If you continued to keep quiet like that a little bit longer it would be wonderful. Seriously, guys, I'm centuries away from my matron stage, stop making me talk like a mother."

"Sorry, Thea, honey, I'll try- I'll shut up from now on, boss!" Arek hurried to correct himself when she shot another glare at him.

"Thank you." The shadow of a smile hushed across her face. "We can do better than what happened on- wait." The message signal of her omnitool interrupted her. After a quick glance, she sighed.

"Bad news?" Arek gave her a sympathetic pat on the back, trying to catch a glimpse of the message.

"Commander Crusher wants to talk to me, so my guess is – yes." Her fingers flew across the interface as she confirmed the order. "Let's visit Meyrani later. You, too, Mojo! Meanwhile, Arek, please report your broken filter to Jim before you hit the shower. Call it a day after that."

"Copy that." With a grin, Arek clicked his heels together and saluted.

"Clown." Mojo pushed Arek out of his way, and hurried down the corridor before the growling asari could open her mouth.


	3. Let's Hit the Spacebar

_Author's note:_

 _Author got shot for bad pun but refused to remain dead._

A shower later and after trading the tight suit armor for more comfortable pants and a loose fitting shirt, Arek was looking forward to spend a few moments in the lounge. The hot water had soothed his aching muscles, and his frustration with today's mission was washed down the drain along with sweat and dust.

He stroke over his face. The short, red hair covering his chin was his beardy pride; he had given up on a full beard years ago, but maybe he should still have shaved the stray stubble on his cheeks today.

He was glad he didn't when the memory of a mocking voice calling him 'fuzz-face' returned.

 _Fuck you, porcupine, you're just jealous, as mom would have said!_ Maybe he should never shave again, only to spite Mojo.

He ran his fingers through his short, still wet hair. Too bad his pay wasn't based on the number of degrading remarks made by Mojo about his hair, his facial hair, his hair being red, his hair existing... He pulled a grimace to make the grim frown disappear, and put on a smile.

Things would turn for the better next time, with Thea now in charge. They'd only have to wait for Rani's recovery, and the lady was tough – as long as she wasn't death, nothing would stop her from jumping back into action. If it weren't for THAT guy, Arek would love his squad.

"Look who's here! Hey, Arek!" the creaking voice of a drell welcomed him the moment the door slid open.

"Kalron! Back from duty already?" He shook his friend's hand and followed him into the lounge. Three squads with four members each added to the crew of the SSV Hamburg, and at least one was usually deployed to a planet or space station, or supported the crew of another cruiser or frigate. Squads were formed from several races, with focus on their abilities. The crew mostly consisted of humans, but over the last two years, the Alliance welcomed whoever was willing to assist, enlisting them as full or temporary members.

Arek saw being assigned to outstanding soldiers like Almathea and Meyrani as an honor, and praise for his skills. It took him some effort, however, not to see Mojo as a personal insult.

"Sure. And from what I heard we did a much better job than you guys. Wine?" Kalron had guided him to the bar and waved for Patrick. The wiry, elderly human had retired from 40 years as a head of the canteen a few years ago, but returned to duty once he heard of the reaper attack. He was in charge of the bar, making sure that the crew were allowed a few moments of recreation between shifts and mission, without overdoing it.

"Beer. Thanks, Patrick. Busy evening?" Not that terms like morning or evening applied in their environment, but as far as Arek was concerned, it was evening the moment he stepped into a bar.

"People always feel a strong need to relax when the high and mighty visited." Patrick gestured at the roughly thirty visitors, and, with a tired smile, he hurried to a pair of asari adepts.

"Poor guy." Arek sipped on his beer. Good, almost as good as those from earth. Could be a little colder though.

On a regular day, rarely more than a dozen crew- or squad members visited the lounge. The room that was quite spacey usually was cramped now, and a whirl of voices flooded the four walls. It was loud, lively, and full with complaints, shouting and bragging. Arek loved it.

"How unfortunate, to end a mission with such a miserable outcome, on the day the Admiral grants us a visit."

Arek allowed himself to smile. Kalron spoke with the solemnity of a priest on a funeral, and he'd do so if he had heard that Arek lost a pencil. He appreciated his friend's sympathy, especially today, because it was genuine, but also amusing.

"Yeah. Talking about bad timing. You heard the story?"

"Not the details, but I know who you have to put up with, and that the two of you were about to jump each other's throat after your talk with Admiral Hackett. I'm glad that Almathea was with you." Now it was the Drell's turn to grin when Arek stared at him in surprise.

"When the fuck did you hear about that?"

"How do you humans call it? News travel fast through the grapevine? You should know, my friend, that in these dark days, your, let's say, confrontations with Mojo have become a means of entertainment to many. I even heard," Kalron leaned closer. He cleared his throat, and whispered, "some of the crew have taken to betting. As far as I'm informed, there are three very popular bets: Who will win a fight, when will it happen, and what will happen first – you two brawling or kissing."

"Ew, God!" Arek coughed, spitting out his drink. Kalron chuckled, and wiped the beer from his face. Arek cleaned his own with the sleeve of his shirt, and emptied his can in one long gulp.

"Is everyone crazy these days?" he spat, after trading his empty drink for a new one. "First off, I will win, secondly, I hope soon, and finally, damn! My morals aren't THAT loose!"

"There are different bets running, depending on if you two agree on ex- or including biotics."

"For the good guy you usually are you're damn well informed about this unofficial gambling ring. Isn't there some kind or law or rule against it?"

They moved away from the bar when a tired looking couple from the engineering deck pleaded for a bottle of scotch.

Arek was greeted from all sides with delighted shouts and slaps on the back, and Kalron patiently waited until his human friend and one of the navigators agreed on a date for another poker game, in private.

"Allow me to say," the drell took the earliest chance to speak, "You'll receive an invitation to dinner when you either win a fight that includes biotics this week, or lose a fistfight, also this week."

"How are the odds?" Arek laughed, and steered towards a corner at the left side of the room. If they were fast enough, they could claim two free seats on that good, old leather couch for themselves. "If it pays off for dinner, and a few drinks in the Dark Star Lounge on Citadel, I might lose on purpose!" He covered the last distance with a jump and slumped into the comfortable cushions before a salarian beat him to it.

"Arek, winning by fraud is not honorable." Kalron sat down next to him, a stern expression on his serious face.

"So is breaking about a dozen rules and at least as many laws to bet on your friend. Oh, fuck it. Talking about breaking about a dozen things." Arek let his head drop against the back of the couch, and poured more beer into his open mouth.

"Is something wrong?"

"Charming company." He pointed at the second couch, standing about two meters away from them. A drell and a turian had occupied most of the sofa, and were engaged in a lively discussion. Arek couldn't understand what they were saying; the tone was hostile, but if he didn't misread their faces, they were enjoying themselves. Well, that was what he read from the drell's face, he was never too sure with turians. And frankly, when it was about Mojo's freaking face, he didn't give a damn if that jerk was enjoying himself or not.

"Great, and I skipped dinner because I wasn't in the mood to see scar-face there." Arek bit the rim of his beer can. "Still can't believe he has a friend."

"I doubt it, I know for a fact that Barat isn't very fond of him. I assume it's more an arrangement born of mutual interests."

"Like what? Both being jerks?"

"That, bragging and both being infiltrators. I overheard them showing off numbers of headshots the other day."

"Bragging over his damn headshot count after it cost us the mission's success, that's Mojo for you." He took another gulp, his fingers slowly tapping on the armrest. "Asshole."

"I'm relieved I bet on 'brawling'" Kalron said with a chuckle. The he sat up, and leaned closer, assuring that nobody overheard them. "Did you hear? About his scar?"

"What about it? Thought he caught a rocket with his face or something satisfying like that."

"It's a rumour, but you did notice how symmetrical it is, and that he's barefaced? Missing a facial tattoo?" he explained when Arek gave him a questioning look.

"It's kinda a big deal among turians, isn't it?"

"Correct. They stand for the colony or tribe they were born into, it's apart of their identity. I overheard a conversation between Marek and Kat from the kitchen crew. There's a rumour that his tribe or colony exiled him. Whatever the reason was, it was bad enough to burn the tattoo from his face, so that nobody may assume he still belongs to them. Banished through and through, if you want to say so." The drell had to catch his breath after gushing the torrent of gossip.

"Wow, really? No wonder he's so damn calm about everything. He's used to being a disgrace."

"I told you, it's a rumor. I didn't ask if there is any proof," Kalron admitted.

"Got it, gonna keep it to myself for now. Let's change the topic to something more important!" A sweet smile brightened his face, he tilted his head, and fluttered his green eyes at his friend. "I want more beer, but I don't wanna leave this spot, ever! Would you get me more?"

"I'm afraid that would work better with Joshua, from navigations. Or Chen, from engineering. Or-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm horrible, I know. But you defend my spot, will you?" With a groan, he pushed himself up. Warm beer on an empty stomach after a day's work hadn't been the best idea. He felt a headache approaching, and he had to stand still for a moment for the room to stop swaying. It would be a good idea to eat something before he drank more, unless he wanted to invite a migraine and a sick stomach. Maybe he could coax Patrick to share his secret stash of snacks with him – for free.

Before began his stroll through the chattering groups he caught his name. No, not really his name, the exact words were 'rusted carpet-face', followed by a laugh that seemed to come with its own echo.

"Fuck you." He turned on his heel, and with one wide step, he placed himself in front of the turian, his back straight, his head held high.

Mojo looked up at him, and sighed.

"Go back to your little buddy. This is a conversation between grown-ups." He waved his hand to shoo him away, turning his shoulder towards Arek.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Arek whistled with his sweetest voice. "And here I thought when you talk about me anyway, I might as well join."

"Too bad that talking about you is far more amusing than talking with you."

A few voices behind Arek snickered.

"Aren't you funny." He nodded at Barat. "Did you tell your friend that it was your fault alone that we blew it today?"

"Aw, don't be sad, I'm sure you'll quickly find something else to blow, won't you?" Mojo's amused voice changed into a sneer of disgust, and the growing crowd around them chuckled.

"Haha, hilarious." Heat flushed over Arek's face. It was one thing when he joked about his own morals, or if friends teased him because he, well, liked to share a bit of fun more than one partner. Having Mojo sneer about his promiscuity was a whole different thing!

"I think you're more in need of a good fuck than I. Too bad I don't know where to find a paper bag big enough to hide your ugly head." There, that earned him a few laughs with the audience. But except for an occasional laugh or chuckle, the crowd around them fell silent. Of course they didn't want to miss another quarrel between everybody's darling Arek and Mojo, whose skill in killing with his rifle was only exceeded by his talent to piss people off. Well, if they wanted to see a show – Arek was only too willing to deliver.

"At least I don't depend on the pity of others to not feel lonely." The turian didn't seem impressed by the fact that a whole room was listening to them, and waiting for his retort. He was still comfortably leaning against the couch's backrest, one leg lying on the other. He took a sip from his drink, and turned back to Barat.

"Where was I before we were interrupted?"

 _Oh no! This is not over yet!_ Any reply would do, as long as he wouldn't allow him to leave him standing like he wasn't worth the turian's time.

"Glad to hear it. Guess you'd be very lonely, I mean, who pities an asshole who isn't even wanted by his own family?"

"Arek!" Kalron hissed behind him, but Arek shushed him with a wave of his hand.

 _Bull's eye!_ Arek's mouth twitched. Finally, he had his attention. The turian rose from his seat, and, at least a head taller than the human, now looked down on Arek.

"What was that?"

"That? Nothing. Or would you actually calling it a big deal that your own home colony didn't want you? That they kicked you out, but not before making sure no trace of their tattoo was left on your face? Sad story, Mojo, very sad. Need a hug?" His grin faltered when a hand shot forwards and grabbed him by his throat.

"Stop that!" he croaked as the three fingers tightened. A blindly thrown kick hit the turian's leg, but if Mojo flinched Arek missed it.

"It's a lie. You're too stupid to figure out the true story, so you make yourself important with a lie. If I hear you spread it again, I'll snap your neck."

Arek tried to cough, but couldn't push enough air through his throat. The green eyes staring down at him were becoming blurry. Mojo was saying the truth, at least about the part to snap his neck, Arek believed him that much. He wasn't so sure about the rest, but that would have to wait. For now-

The air between them thickened as it turned blue.

The force of the shockwave swept Mojo from his feet back onto the couch. He didn't have enough time to let go of Arek, and dragged him with him. Only when the human fell on top of him his hand loosened the grip.

"Ow, you should gain some fat!"

Standing only a few inches away when the shockwave hit its target tainted his vision blue for a few seconds, but the groan beneath him, and that he could breathe freely again told him it was worth it.

The swelling laughter was boiling over around him, putting an instant grin on his face. He lifted his head, and poked the hard shoulder.

"Well, guess you didn't-" His voice broke into a yelp as a force tightened around his throat for the second time this evening. Next thing he knew was being hurled to the floor.

He blinked the last blur away as he looked up – and met the furious gaze of his squad leader.

"Amalthea, since when have you been standing there..." Well, this was one of the moments where he had better shut up. He held his breath and closed his eyes while Amalthea's wrath burst over him.

"Is that you trying? Is that the worth of your promise when you say you want to try your best? Do you think you can do what you want and ridicule our squad in front the crew because we're friends? If this is your best, Arek, go and resign! I don't need you in my squad if this is the best you are willing to do!" A deep growl rolled with her voice and threatened to drown her words. Her blue of her cheeks changed into a dark purple, and her eyes blackened when she turned around.

"And you, Mojo! Provoked or not, I will not have you threaten and hurt another squad member!"

"Wait." Another figure shoved herself past the raging asari, and took a stand in front of Mojo. "I have to tell you a few things myself, Mojo."

"If you want to appeal to my honor and discipline as a fellow turian, Meyrani, save your breath." Mojo struggled back to his feet, his legs still shaky from the impact, but he was standing straight as he looked down at the smaller turian woman.

Her arm was bandaged and resting in a sling. A crutch helped her to take the weight off her injured leg.

"Don't assume I'm dumb! Amalthea, I apologize for ignoring your order, but," she let go of the crutch. Her hand shot up, and the sharp, pointy claws of her two fingers dug into the skin under Mojo's jaw.

"Mojo, I don't care that you're turian, or what's your real name," she hissed, drilling deeper. "I don't care if you like or hate us, or what you do with your free time. You two want to beat each other up? Fine. You hate everyone of us, good. But if you endanger another mission, if you drag down the honor of the squad, and ridicule my work with your incompetence one more time, I'll slit your throat." She ripped her hand away and wiped it on her shirt, leaving two bluish marks on the white fabric.

"Remember the most important thing about both of us being turian: I know where to place the blade."

"This is a mess..." Amalthea rubbed her neck, looking from Meyrani to Mojo while avoiding to take notice of the audience.

"Wow... I mean, Rani! You're better!" Arek was back on his feet, caught between the urge to fall around her neck, and a sudden hunch that it was maybe a better idea to stay out of reach of any turian present. He cast a sideway glance at Mojo, half expecting him to launch forward and tear Meyrani apart. He noticed the twitching mandibles of the turian's face. This... wasn't a smile, was it? It was sometimes so difficult to tell for him if a turian was amused, or baring his teeth.

"Good, I finally know who I'm dealing with." He wiped the underside of his jaw with the back of his hand and looked at the two drops of smeared blood. "Keep it up, kid."

Arek and Amalthea tensed, ready to go between the two turian when Mojo set in motion. To their surprise, all he did was giving Meyrani a slap on her shoulder as he walked past her on his way out.

"Uh, do I have to be scared of both of you now?" Arek tried to muster up a chuckle, and feared it sounded rather weak, fitting how cold his face felt.

"I wish anybody of you was scared of me," Amalthea sighed before Meyrani could answer. "I know, I'm new to this kind of authority, but could you guys please, please stop attacking and provoking each other? Even if it's hard? I neither want to explain to Crusher nor to Hackett that my squad stabbed each other to death only hours after I was put in charge."

"Can't I blame the alcohol, and Rani her painkillers?" He picked up the crutch and handed it to the turian woman, freeing her from the strain to balance on her one good leg. "I'm sure they filled her up with drugs so she could even stand!"

"Not funny, Arek." Almathea let herself fall onto the free spot of the couch. "What are you looking at? The show's over!" she snapped, and the people surrounding the small group took a step back. "Somebody get me a drink, NOW!" Finally, the crowd dissolved.

"Here." Kalron had slipped away when the commotion had reached its peak, and now returned, handing Amalthea a small bottle filled with a liquid of a pale, rosy color. "Forgive me." He smiled at Meyrani and shrugged. "I wasn't sure what you like and can digest."

"The thought is appreciated." She sat down next to Amalthea, inhaling sharply when her knee bent slightly. "Water has no effect on me, but would be refreshing."

"Understood!" The drell hastened back to the bar. Arek grinned after him.

"You left quite the impression on him, and definitely on me." He considered squeezing himself between the two women, but dropped the thought. Things were uncomfortable enough for Meyrani as they were, and he wasn't sure how angry Amalthea was still with him. He looked around. Other seats close by were taken, and he wished he wasn't dizzy. The growl from his stomach was loud enough to compete with that of the brooding asari. The shockwave had been small, with low impact and reach, but the size of the back hole in his empty stomach seemed to have doubled.

"If it left an impression on Mojo I'll be forever in your debt." Amalthea chugged down her liquor, and stretched out her arms, the muscles flexing under her shirt as she let them rest on the back of the couch. It was an unfair world. Turians were taller than most human, and Amalthea was tall for an asari, so although being of average heigh for a human man, Arek was the smallest of their squad.

And the muscular built of the valkyrie? Arek could only dream of that. He was of an athletic, defined shape, which was more than enough for his job, and it was all he could expect. He had given up on stocking up muscles years ago. As a natural biotic he was powerful enough to stand his ground, but whenever a mission allowed him to catch his breath he admired Amalthea's hand-to-hand combat skills, and with that, her strength. He wouldn't call himself envious, but if he could charge himself among the enemy forces and wreck havoc with his fists as well as with his biotics, he wouldn't complain.

"What is it, Turner?" The asari grinned at him. "In for another round of arm wrestling?"

"And enforce that bad opinion you got of me the last hour? I don't think so. Yo, thanks, Kal!"

The drell had returned with Meyrani's water, and a drink for Arek, and another for Amalthea. "Hey, that's just water!" Arek protested after taking a sip.

"If you'd kissed him I'd have brought you champagne." Kalron crackled at the sight of Arek's wide eyes and wrinkled nose. "I'm sorry, my friend, but if you knew the odds you'd have been tempted, too."

"I don't think want to know. Wait! Didn't you say before-"

"I lied," Kalron replied with a sly grin Arek hadn't believed to ever see in the kind drell's face.

"And I don't want to hear about any of that," Amalthea interrupted. "You, what was your name again, Kalron? Can you do me a favor? Stick around Arek a little while longer this evening and keep an eye on him. If he runs into Mojo again, drag him to the other end of the ship."

"That goes a bit too far, Thea. Don't get me wrong, Kal, you're a good friend to have a round, but I don't need a babysitter! I was just a little tipsy, and yeah, I provoked him, but he started it, and-"

"I ended it, my highlight of the day when I thought it couldn't get any worse."

"Thea, I'm sorry. Today sucked for all of us, and I swear, it won't happen again." At least not like this. If he didn't get too close to Mojo the next time they argued so he couldn't be grabbed, and wouldn't have to counter-attack.

"I hope so." She sat up, her voice suddenly tired. "Arek, as a friend, I understand you. Goddess, he's such a damn jerk, and I can tell you, I wanted to tear him to pieces 17 times this week, I counted. But... you know... being an asshole isn't a crime, and they put him into this squad, and now it's our job to get this thing to work. And you're not helping. What is it about him, Arek? You usually don't give a damn about what people say or think about you."

"Good question." He'd pay money for an answer.

Others had made fun of him before. Well liked as he was, and as easily he made friends, there had always been people who looked down on him. Because he was a biotic, or a human, or a redhead. Some sneered at him because he was 'easy', or just for the fact that others enjoyed his company anyway. Yeah, jealousy was an ugly thing, as his mother used to comfort him when he was young, and if people rather boiled in their own jealousy than having fun with him – their problem. But good God, if that damn turian had perfected a skill, then it was pushing Arek's buttons!

"Wish I had an answer." He shrugged. "Day one, he didn't give a damn about me. Day two, I only needed to breathe and he'd mock me for that. We're specialists in different fields, so rivalry can't be it. Thought he's jealous because people love me and don't like him, but eh, I think he prefers it this way." _Although how anyone would prefer being like this is beyond me, but everyone to their own. As long as I'm left alone._

"He just has it in for me, for no reason, and I guess that pisses me off! Might as well give him a reason. But I won't do it again, promised!" He crossed himself, spilling his water over his shirt.

"Is that a human thing? Sealing a promise by wasting water?" Meyrani eyed him with mild curiosity. "Or doesn't the kind of liquid matter?"

"Not really, it's... complicated. Pretend it never happened, okay? Are you staring at my chest?" He pulled his shirt until it stretched tightly over his skin. "Trying to make that Salarian of yours jealous?"

"Sorry, Arek, mind beats matter anytime." Her mandibles moved and bared her teeth, which Arek didn't doubt to be a turian smirk.

"Back to topic, all right? First off, Kalron, be a buddy and get me another." Amalthea waved the empty bottle. The drell bowed, took it from her and hurried to follow her request. She leaned back in her seat and grinned at Arek.

"If you and Mojo shared a bit of his attitude my life would be heaven."

"He has a soft spot for strong women. Would you really want me and Mojo to fall for-"

"I'd rather mate with a thresher maw than hearing you finish that thought! Thanks, Kalron." She took the drink and rose her bottle to the smiling drell. "Back to business. You can prove your resolve sooner than you think, Arek. Commander Crusher got the order to pick up some high brass as soon as the third squad is back, and he's sending us."

"Sweet! Sounds like something even Mojo will have a hard time to fuck up. Where are we going?"

"Omega. If you want to grab a bite and catch some sleep you better hurry. We'll arrive in five hours."


	4. Faces of Omega

Smoke hovering between the ceiling and the heads beneath created an illusion of a cloud covered sky. The air was thick with voices – batarian, volus, turian, krogan, and even vorcha. Only few humans added to the stream of chatter that pulsated through the veins of Omega.

Arek strolled through the market of the commercial district. He inhaled deeply the scent coming from a stand offering grilled meat of an animal he had never heard off. Four steps further, his growling stomach turned at the stench of trash and waste. If there was more rotting than the garbage from a food stand, then he didn't want to know.

He was still wearing his casual outfit, the short now wrinkled after a two hours nap, and blended with the crowd with ease. Armor showing insignia of the Alliance would have drawn unwanted attention to a squad that was supposed to smuggle a human general from Omega back to their shuttle.

Arek stopped at a store front, reading "Omega Market" on the neon sign. A batarian vendor cast him a dark glare, but didn't deem the human's presence worth of more than that; he continued to bargain with a krogan customer while Arek browsed the goods with great interest.

When they were told they were two hours early after their arrival Arek had been irritated. He was tired from his lack of sleep, and sitting in a close space right across that damned turian hadn't brightened his mood.

However, walking the streets of Omega on his own proved to be not the worst way to spend his time.

He picked up a heavy pistol, admiring the sleek design and the sturdy, silver and black frame. For its type of weapon, it was surprisingly light, and it rested well in his hand.

"Pay, or put it down, human!" The batarian took the weapon from him and put it back on display.

"What can you tell me about it?" Most of the time he relied on his biotic skills, for the rest he had his SMG. But an additional pistol, for emergency cases, sure wouldn't hurt, and, at least as importantly, this little baby looked good on him.

"The acolyte? Asari manufactured, which should give you an idea about its power. Strips down shields like nothing else. Worth the time it takes to recharge, if you know what you're aiming at."

"Sweet." Arek whistled through his teeth, reaching for the weapon again, but pulled back his hand when the batarian cleared his throat. Good, the guy didn't seem too eager to make business with him, which meant only one thing: Arek now wanted the weapon more than anything else. He tried to remember his remaining credits for this month. Damn, he should have asked Meyrani to come with him, she sure would have lent him the rest. Well, time to start bargaining; cornering the salesman with sharp questions should do the trick.

"Haven't seen one before. Are they legal?"

"Depends who you're working for," the vendor shot back, his four eyes staring at him with suspicion. "Word of advice, human. If this is a concern of yours, you better catch a shuttle and get your ass off of Omega."

"No, no. All fine, but thanks for the advice anyway." That went far from well. The last thing he needed was another reason for Thea to bite of his head because word travelled about a human behaving suspiciously. He decided to give up on bargaining, but not on the acolyte yet.

"What's the price for this baby?"

The batarian named the number, and walked away. The look of defeat in Arek's face said all about a failed business he needed to know to not waste more of his time with this human.

Arek still stared at the weapon. Maybe, if he tried to save some of his pay, he should be able to afford it – in three or four months. If no spontaneous parties or other tempting ways to throw out his credits came his way. Three months... would he still be alive then? Would this store still exist? Was there a point of saving only one credit when a reaper might turn him into charcoal tomorrow?

He sighed goodbye to the pistol, and turned around, smashing his face against a hard back.

"Not you of all possible people..." he groaned when the turian turned around.

"A plague is less difficult to get rid off than you," was the sharp retort.

"Hey, no fighting in front of my-" The batarian stopped in the middle of his rant, and his frown broke into a smile. "Mojo! Is that you? I thought you left Omega for good! Dead or alive, the rumours never found an agreement on that detail."

"Marsh. Still selling scrap metal for a living, I see." Mojo pushed Arek out of his way, and shook the offered hand.

"Don't you dare to insult my store! Tell you something." Marsh leant over the counter and pointed at a salarian. He seemed still young, and inspected a shotgun with a look so earnest that it was obvious he had never held a gun before.

"Folks don't show it, but half of everyone is crazy to get their hands on a good gun. The other half is crazy to get rid off their good guns before the galaxy crumbles, after keeping the real things for themselves for so long. Now, give me your Viper already, and lets see what I can do for her!"

Forgotten – or ignored – by his squadmate and the vendor, Arek stood behind the turian, staring at his wide shoulders. This was Mojo, all right, but actually bantering with the batarian. Who apparently had known him for a while, and was still willing to speak with him.

He was chewing on his tongue, dying to make a snippy remark. The reasonable part of his mind warned him to shut up and walk away... since when did his conscience speak with the voice of Amalthea?

And anyway, this pest was from Omega? Interesting, yet, it was easy to imagine this rude idiot as a merc. His battle armor was black with dark red highlights, a lot the shirt he was wearing – a brownish red with black lines. Was it a hint, pointing at the Blood Pack? Or had it been red sand? Assassination? Weapon smuggling? Or even human trafficking? None of this would surprise him, and he wondered how Mojo managed to be assigned to a squad under the command of the Alliance. The _why_ was interesting, too.

 _Being an asshole isn't a crime._ Thea had been right, but who said that Mojo was just an asshole? Arek had reached a point where he'd expect him to side with the reapers, for no other reason than being a jerk.

A faint vibration around his arm woke him up from is musing. He activated his omni-tool and accepted the call.

"Thea? Everything good?"

"You guys hear me? Can I speak freely?"

He looked around. The market was crowded, and each stall in sight was occupied by at least three or for costumers. Nothing that could be called a quiet spot, except...

"Give me a second." _Goodbye, breath._ He fell into a moderate pace, steering his steps away from the batarian's store as indifferent as he could be, and towards the alley close to the food stall from before. Before he could slip into the dark corner he collided with Mojo.

"God, just stop stalking me, you ugly idiot!"

"Surprise, you're not the centre of the universe. What do you want?" the turian growled at his omni-tool.

"Listen, you two. We have a situation." The asari was keeping her voice low. Arek heard somebody whisper, and judging from the steady noise in the background, Amalthea was trying to keep the conversation away from the ears of the crowd as well.

"Are you in trouble? Where are you? I'll be getting there!"

"Shut up and listen. Meyrani intercepted a distress call that was sent to what they call a 'police office' here. You're both there, right? Meyrani, take over."

"It's a hostage situation. I don't have all the detail yet, but here's what I deciphered so far!" Meyrani didn't bother with keeping her voice down. It took a sharp warning from Amalthea for her to lower her excitement to a whisper as she spoke on, "Major Kabale, leader of one of the political human parties on Citadel, stepped on a few toes. A ship on its way to Sanctuary had Kabale's family on board. It was high-jacked, the family kidnapped, and traces lead to Omega. I still have to figured out the demands, but from what I've heard, if the Major doesn't budge soon, his family will be killed."

"Holy shit. What do we do now? Is there anything we can do?" Arek glared at the people walking past them. Almost everyone was carrying a weapon, and the few who didn't were probably just better at hiding them under their clothes. Who was he fooling, this was Omega, where everyone had a skeleton in their closet, and where one – citizen and visitor alike – was as suspicious as the other.

"To which group do the kidnappers belong? Are they connected to Omega?"

"No clue yet, Mojo, I'm still trying to-"

"Where is their position?" the turian interrupted her, his fingers gliding over his omni-tool.

"You should have the coordinates by now. You two aren't too far away from them."

"Arek, Mojo, listen!" Amalthea cut into the conversation. "This isn't an official assignment, but if we could do something to resolve it... this is just the thing that could earn us some points with the commander! Maybe there's nothing we can do, but there's still time until our job starts, and if at least one of you could investigate..."

"I'm on it."

Arek stared at Mojo, and the sudden silence from the other end of the call suggested that Amalthea and Meyrani were as surprised as him.

Mojo cut off the call, shut off the interface of his omni-tool, and hastened further down the dark alley.

"Hey, wait! Wait for me! I'm on it, too, Rani! Gonna keep an eye on him!" He ended the call, and fell into a jog to keep up with the turian. The smell of decay was becoming stronger. They left the artificial light from the main street behind them, and ran deeper into the darkness.

"Where are you going?" he gasped once he caught up with Mojo.

"To the cordinates. Stop being in my way!"

"It's the other way, dumbass! If we cross the market place, and find our way into the slums, we could-"

"I'm taking a short cut." He halted, and turned around. "To make this clear, I don't need you for this, and I don't want you to come along. Piss off, pyjak!"

Arek raised his hand, his fingers conjuring a small, bluish cloud from the air.

"To make this clear, I won't let you go and make things worse than they already are! Come! Do me the favor and try to stop me." He waved his hand in front of the turian's face.

"Do what you want, but don't think I'll wait for you." He slapped Arek's hand away, turned on his heel and continue his way. Arek chuckled, and dashed after him.

"Are you kidding me?" He ran past Mojo, twisted around and grinned. "I'm faster than you!"

"Good for you." The turian stopped, and jumped onto a trash container. He set one foot on a dent in the wall, grabbed a loose cable, and pulled himself up. He took hold of a pipe, and from there, he climbed up the building.

"Sore loser." Arek pressed his jaws together, and climbed on the container. He found the same spot for his foot. The cable was out of reach, and his fingers scratched over the metallic surface until he found a small ledge to grab. He stretched, and finally, his fingers clenched around the cable.

"Fuck!" His triumph ended when his foot slipped from its hold. The cable was pulled from its anchoring with Arek hanging on its end.

"Goddammit!" Dangling in the air, he looked down. Falling would hurt, although a biotic field should prevent the worst, but... he didn't want to go down, he had to follow that jerk!

 _Dammit._ Mojo would never let him live down what he had to do next.

"Mojo!"

The turian had reached the roof when he was called. He looked down and – laughed.

"Stop laughing, you stupid asshole, and help me!" Arek closed his eyes, took a deep breath and added, "Please."

Mojo stared down at him. After a moment, he shrugged, reached for the edge of the roof, about to climb the rest of the way, then he paused. He looked down again, and Arek swore, if turians were able to frown, Mojo was frowning.

"Come on! This is not about a stupid feud, but about a job!" Arek called up at him, swearing he could see the gears work behind Mojo's forehead. "Whatever's going to happen, you might need a witness!"

Mojo snorted, and his mandibles twitched. He let go of the roof, and let himself slide down the pipe. His legs wrapped around it and one hand holding tight, he stretched towards the gently swinging cable.

"Grab the pipe and climb it. Hurry!" He waited until Arek clenched to the pipe, and rushed back to the roof. A minute later, he seized Arek's hand, and pulled him up.

"I'll never let you live this down."

"I know. Let's make it worth it, okay?" Arek didn't remember the last time he was so relieved to find himself standing on solid ground. Those had been crazy minutes which made one hell of a story once he was back with his friends, from his own, rather embarrassing part, to the fact that his personal nemesis helped him out of his trouble.

Mojo didn't leave him any time to laugh the situation off; with sure steps he was running until he reached the end of the building. Without hesitation he jumped, landing on top of the next roof.

Arek jumped back to his feet and hurried after him. He landed on the same spot only seconds later. The turian was quick, but Arek was indeed the faster runner. He had learned from before, and now stayed behind Mojo, letting him lead the way. When the turian let himself fall flat on the roof instead of jumping over the small gap, Arek followed his example.

"What is it?" he whispered, crawling up to him.

"Quiet! Guards!" He pointed to the building ahead. Four guards were standing in front of the entrance. It was impossible for them to jump from roof to roof without being noticed, and if one of them looked up, they'd soon have some explaining to do.

"Gangs or police? Hey, what are you doing?"

Mojo had activated his omni-tool, his eyes following the rapid flow of letters and numbers on the screen while he was typing.

"Creating a distraction. Why don't you shut up and enjoy the view until I'm done?"

"Yeah... right..." Just because asshole no 1 saved his ass one time, he'd trust him to solve this problem, sure. There had to be a way around the guards, maybe if they returned to one of the alleys, and approached the gate from the other side... He rolled around and crawled towards the edge to his right.

"Wow...!" The commercial district of Omega stretched in front of his eyes.

A cluster of humans and aliens had gathered at the doors of Omega's famous as well as infamous nightclub. AFTERLIFE flickered in big, red neon letters over the building, the light show framed by artificial flames. Or were they real?

The cloud of smoke lay below Arek's position. The lights of the market were showing through it, coloring the smoke in flaring pink and red, and ominous blue and green.

From the ground, he had thought that the living containers of the slums were the highest buildings around him, but now he looked at brightly illuminated skyscrapers that reached high up into the artificial sky. What he had thought was night was revealed to be an everlasting twilight.

The voices echoing through the streets below were reduced to a faint rumble intertwining with the music coming from the Afterlife. In the distance, the drilling from the mines rolled like thunder.

"It's beautiful. Creepy, but beautiful." He turned on his back, and saw how the turian was back on his feet, taking a run to leap over the gap.

"What... wait!" Arek jumped up, quickly looking down – the guards had left their position, he caught a last glimpse of them running past the afterlife towards the shuttle parking lot.

"Okay, how the hell did you do that?" he hissed once he was running next to Mojo. He'd kick his ass for trying to leave him behind later.

"Sent them an obscured distress call, along with the coordinates leading to the Kima district." The turian stopped and gasped for air after they had passed the border to the lower parts of the slums. The bright colors faded. Lights flickered behind dull glass, tinting the street below them in a dirty yellow.

"Wait, you hacked into their communication frequency? _You_ can do stuff like that?!"

"A human child could hack it, the so called security here is a joke. If they'd belonged to a gang, though... Almost there!"

'Almost' turned out to be four more roofs.

The next gap was too large to risk jumping across it. Arek found that climbing down a hot steam pipe was as unpleasant as climbing up a cold water drain, but at least he didn't have to swing on a cable this time. Clawing as tightly to the pipe as he could, he climbed it down at a slow, steady pace. Mojo was waiting above him, impatiently kicking the pipe with his foot. Once Arek was back on the ground, the turian hurried down the pipe, forcing Arek to jump out of his way or he would have tackled him.

"At least you're having fun." Grumbling to himself he followed Mojo, pulling a grimace behind the turian's back.

Arek found solace in the sound of Mojo's ragged breathing between the chuckles; the turian might be better at climbing, but the human beat him when it came to running. His little triumph did last until Mojo stopped, and pointed at another pipe.

"Up here!"

"Damn this!" How much more climbing would he have to endure for this job that wasn't even official?

 _Let's hope it will pay off in the end, Thea, or you owe me a massage!_ He stretched his back once he stepped on the rooftop, trying to loose his stiff, aching shoulders. He followed Mojo to the opposite edge. They had reached a dead end unless they returned to the ground; the next building was across what looked like a market place.

Compared to the lively, colorful market district around the Afterlife, this one stirred pity in Arek. Only a few stalls were open, and offering daily goods side by side with old guns and scrap metal. He counted no more than 20 heads, a handful of them bending over the tables in hope to strike a deal. Most were loitering, getting drunk and throwing trash at a varren pilfering a garbage can.

The turian was lying on his stomach. His rifle was aimed at a window across the market, his eyes was glued to the scope.

"See anything?" Arek crouched beside him, squinting at the building. He pulled his smg and zoomed in as far as it allowed, but all he saw were the silhouettes of four, maybe five people.

"Thought so. This has Murakos' handwriting all over it"

"Who the fuck is Murakos? Wait." Arek set up and activated his omni-tool. "I think that's Rani calling. Hey, girl, any news?"

"Arek? Meyrani here! We got your position. Not bad, that was fast!"

"Thanks to... a shortcut." This wasn't the time for minor details about their way up here, and as far as Arek was considered, there was no reason to bore anyone with them.

 _But I guess someone I know can't wait to tell the tale._ He glared at the turian, but almost broke into a grin when he saw the calm, serious face.

"Everything under control here. Judging from Mojo's expression, he's waiting for the right head to pop up to plant a bullet."

"No, wait! We got an update!" the distant voice cried out in alarm. "The situation is safe! Sankta Fedorian is with the hostages."

"Bullshit!" the turian snorted.

"Fedorian? That rings a bell, gimme a second..."

"Sankta is a nephew of the late primarch Fedorian." Mojo was still focusing on what happened behind the window while he spoke. "But that's bullshit, that isn't him! There's a woman, a young girl and a child, never seen them before, but I do know that turian bastard!"

"Rani, send me a picture of that guy."

"Done, Arek. Mojo, you hear me? It's over! The hostages are fine, they were lucky that Sankta and his crew are on shore leave for a few hours. Don't do anything stupid!"

"Listen, Kid, you don't want me to fuck up your work, now don't fuck up mine! This isn't Sankta!"

Arek crept closer, and shoved his omni-tool before Mojo's face. A small, holographic figure was flickering above Arek's arm.

"Does the dude you see look like that?" Arek tipped at the white marks on the face.

"Yes, but..."

"No but! Mojo, put the rifle down! Reaper invasion or not, if you kill a member of an ex-primarch's family they will find a way to put us in front of a military court!"

"Shut up, Arek, I said that isn't Sankta!"

"Let me at least have a look!" He tore at Mojo's arm, and shoved his head behind the scope, feeling the turian's breath on his neck. He caught a glimpse of a group of four. A turian, talking with a woman and who he assumed to be her children. Grey, almost bluish face plates, with bright, white marks covering most of it.

"Sorry, Mojo, it's the same face."

"It's the same _tattoo_ , and you're too dumb to tell one turian from the other apart!" He pushed Arek away, and brought his rifle back in position. "Murakos was a blankface when he left Palaven. He had markings similar to Fedorian's tattooed on his face during his years with the Blue Suns. A few more lines of paint, and the disguise is perfect! Now let me finish this!"

"Why the fuck should I trust you on this? I'm risking an innocent life here!"

"There's nothing innocent about Murakos." Mojo was lying still, the finger twitching at the trigger. "Come on, bastard, a bit more to the right.."

Arek stared at him. His omni-tool blinked, still holding the call from Meyrani. Knowing her, she was busy searching for anything she could find on this Murakos guy.

Supposed Mojo was right. Then the major's family was still in danger. In the hands of a criminal, who happened to be a turian who looked a lot like another turian related to a dead primarch, and who copied his tattoo to be mistaken as that primarch's nephew, using the good name for criminal intentions.

Suppose he was wrong, or lying. A member of the turian military, the real nephew of Fedorian, wouldn't have had any trouble to pass the gates to the slums, and to reach the hostages before him and Mojo. He'd have the weapons, name and influence, at least more than two plain-clothed members of an Alliance squad. As a member of a family of political importance, a Fedorian probably was more informed about an incident with political motifs? Maybe that was the whole cause of that 'shore leave'?

What proof did he have, beside Mojo's word? He had learned today that the biggest asshole he knew was from Omega, and had been a part of its criminal society for who knew how long. A week would have been enough for him to piss off enough people. He could only imagine how long the list with scores to settle was, a list that might include Sankta Fedorian.

No, one option was as absurd as the other. Yet, he had to make a decision, right now, and it boiled down to one question:

Did he trust Mojo?

"Mojo, no!" He threw himself on top of the turian the moment Mojo pulled the trigger. The viper jerked to the side. Both stared after the sound that cut through the air.

"Out of sight! Fuck!" Mojo took a quick look through the scope. "Fuck it! Fuck YOU!" He jumped up, his hand aiming for Arek's throat. Arek had learned from the last time he had driven Mojo to his limits, and dodged the attack with a jump to the side.

"I can't let you kill an innocent guy!" Arek yelled.

"You idiot! I told you he isn't a Fedorian! I told you!" He lifted the viper, and for a moment Arek feared he would smash it into Arek's face.

 _Try it! I have a shockwave with your name on it waiting for you!_

"I've worked long enough in this dump! I've known this guys for years and he has always been trouble! Ambitious trouble! Now there's a hole in the wall instead of his head, because you're a damn idiot!" Mojo shouted, shaking with rage. He took a step towards Arek, when another call came in.

"What?" Arek answered it, not leaving the turian out of sight.

"We intercepted a call from Kabale's wife just a few seconds ago!" Amalthea's voice thundered through. "She begged for help! Hurry! It wasn't Sankta who was with them, Mojo was right, and the room is rigged with..."

A deafening explosion silenced her.

Startled, Arek staggered backwards, his foot stepping on air. A hand seized him by his arm, and hurled him onto the roof. Screams and shouts for help coming from the market reached his ears. More and more people filled the street, drawn out of their houses by the noise and the smell of fire. Arek recovered his balance. Mojo was standing at the edge of the roof, staring at the flames shooting out of the window across the street.

"Mojo, I..." He stared at the fire, running his hands through his hair. The stench of burnt chemicals crept through the air and into his nose.

"I could have saved them. But because _you_ didn't... Fuck it!" Mojo turned around and walked past Arek, throwing his rifle to the ground.


	5. One High Horse is Dead

_Author's note: By the time I type this, there are 23 chapters on AO3. I'll leave you poor souls with chapter 5 for a bit, but I'll upload the others soon, too._ _Because I'm hungry it's past 12pm and I haven't had breakfast yet_ _After all, it wouldn't be polite to flood poor ffnet with 23 chapters at once, it's important to be considerate of others._

He reached the end of the building and disappeared. The world in front of him was dark, behind him, it was illuminated by an absurd, warm glow. Arek wanted to follow him, but the screams from across his roof drew him back. What good would following him have done anyway. There was not much he could say. No, there was exactly one thing he wanted to say, but right now, it sounded weak and shallow, even to himself.

A step away from falling, he watched the fire. In its hunger, the flames were working their way through the upper floors. The stench of molten plastics was growing stronger, and the black clouds of smoke seemed to belong to the thunderous drilling in the distance. The air shimmered from the heat, the thin metal walls were dented, sucked inside by a sudden vacuum when the air inside the building was consumed by the greedy fire.

Whatever Murakos had used to cause it made sure that his victims didn't have a chance to survive. Arek's stomach turned into a knot, and a bile taste rose up his throat; he thought he smelled burning flesh, but his mind fought to shut the fear down. He stood too far away, he could feel the heat, but the smell had to be his imagination. Too much space between them, too far away to smell anything, or to do anything to help them. He didn't have a chance, nor did he have the time.

He tore away from the sight, stepping back from the edge of the roof. If he only...

He picked up the rifle.

"Wow, you're heavy for a viper, aren't you?" He stroke over the metal frame. It had lost most of its shine, the surface was dull and covered with scratches. Sighing, he sat down, letting the weapon rest on his lap. He reopened the channel on his omni-tool.

"Amalthea?"

"Arek! Are you all right? There was that explosion when we were cut off, are you two safe? What happened?"

Arek smiled. There was nothing left of the secrecy in the asari's voice, whatever district she was in was now listening, if they wanted or not

"It's... it's so good to hear your voice." He swallowed hard, the already faint smile twitching. "We're okay... no, Thea, nothing is okay. I mean, we aren't hurt, but..."

"Arek, listen to me!" Meyrani took over. Which was good, she had her voice under control. _Very good, Rani. At least one of us can keep a cool head._

"Always, dear, I'll always listen to you."

"Arek, I didn't have the time to dig deep enough, but what I found out about Murakos is ugly enough. If we knew earlier, and had sent you sooner... He's ruthless, dangerous, and knows what he's doing. What happened isn't your fault, you weren't even supposed to be there. Arek? Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, but you're wrong, Rani." He patted the rifle. As his fingers glided over the frame, they felt a pattern too regular for signs of use. He turned it around, having a closer look at the bottom of the rifle's stock.

 _Remember, idiot, skill always beats luck! I. K ._

I.K.? The Batarian? No, his name was different, something with M. What a weird dedication, but yet, so wonderfully fitting that it made Arek chuckle.

"Arek? Hello? Arek, where's Mojo, neither Amalthea nor I seem to be able to track him!"

 _Alright, ladies, time for your buddy here to make a confession._

"Do you both hear me? The truth is, what happened is my fault. My fault alone. Mojo had the chance to kill him, and I stopped him. Maybe they'd still be alive if the shot had hit Murakos' head instead of warning him. They could live, if I..."

"Wait, Arek, wait! What do you mean? What exactly happened, and where the fuck is Mojo?!"

"I'm sorry, Thea. And I don't know where he is. Let me explain from the beginning." He began his tale from the point they had reached the roof. How he and Mojo argued after Meyrani's call, and what was going on in his mind when he saw himself forced to make a decision, and how he finally made the wrong choice.

"I never thought there was anything in this world he could be worked up about, Thea," he came to an end. "He left and... I let him go. Well, at least he now has a very good reason to hate me." He laughed, finding more amusement in how wrong it sounded than in his words.

"Shit," was Amalthea's response. He could hear her talk to Meyrani, but was unable to understand what they were debating. _If they kick me out of the squad I sure deserve it. But..._ Deserved or not, he didn't want to leave, not yet. He had to put some things right first.

"Arek, please be serious for once." Almathea using a calm, almost a bit sad voice was worse than her yelling. "Do you know why you made your decision?"

"Yes. Because I let a personal matter interfere with a professional situation. Thea, I-"

"Exactly. Arek, don't get me wrong, I don't put the whole blame on you. Maybe neither of you is to blame for the escalation, we do not know if Murakos intended to let them go if he got what he wanted, Mojo's shot warning him or not. As a fact, however, both of you could have assured their safety if it weren't for your personal feud. That's the blame you both have to share."

"I know, and I'm sorry. And I really have to apologize to him, and have no clue where he is. In a few minutes, I lost a squad member and the lives of three innocent people." If not more. He prayed to whoever was in charge that the building had been empty when the fire broke out, and that he'd only have to load his conscience with turning innocent people homeless.

"Thea, what do I do now? I don't have any clue where to search, and time's running. I'm out of ideas." For all his biotic powers, is usually quick wit and feet, and stubborn willpower, he had lost. He hadn't been aware how bitter defeat could taste.

"Meyrani and I agreed that the two of us are quite capable to guide a general across the street and into our shuttle. As your leader, I have an order for you: You will investigate what led to the death of Kabale's family, and find out what you can about this Murakos. That's what I'll report once we're back. A shuttle will come and get you once you're done.

Of course," she continued with a grim chuckle, "finding Mojo and talk about what happened, and what he knows about that guy counts, even if I didn't conclude that detail in my report. Do you understand me, Arek?"

"I understand. Thank you, Thea. I won't disappoint you... again." He cut off the connection. The interface flickered away. Amalthea's and Meyrani's voices were gone, and here he was, sitting alone on a roof, chaos and murder behind his back. Hours seemed to have passed on this space station that was so strange to him, yet the night would never come, and no morning would follow. He raised his eyes to the sky. It had been years since he had watched the natural course of a day, twilight bleeding into the night, a morning washing away the darkness. If he had a wish free, he'd ask for a few days on earth, a vacation in his home town.

 _Come on, Arek. This is meaningless. You can't run away, you don't even know if there's still a Glasgow to run to._ Of course there was! And one day, he'd go home and spend a few days doing nothing but lying on a green meadow, with a drink by his side, and watching the mist creep over the grass before the sun touched the world. A real sun on a real sky.

He'd keep the thought in mind, for later, but first things first. A war had to be settled, and then there were those reapers who had to be defeated, too, but neither would happen if he continued to be sorry for himself.

The rifle in his hand, he stood up. All he needed now was a lead, and a safe way down from this damn roof.

 _Busy. Loud. Colorful. Like nothing had happened at all._ Travelling through space had changed the concepts of words like 'ground breaking' or 'shattering' for Arek. An asteroid collides with a space station, a few hundred souls burnt in a planet's atmosphere to dust in the morning? Nothing but a status report for the other end of the same system. By noon, he'd be two systems away, and the greatest worry would be a thresher maw threatening a colony's water supply.

Cosmos, micro cosmos, in the end, everybody worried about their own world.

Yet, it was unfair. He felt sick on his stomach when he thought about the screams, about the dead, and the soon homeless while they watched the fire claiming their home. The same district, the own neighborhood, couldn't care less.

Could anything jar the market place's soul? Maybe it was its strength, the self-preserving essence of a life living by its own rules Why care as long as it lived?The raunchy yet oddly beautiful atmosphere had changed, or maybe he hadn't noticed it before – a relentless cruelty that lurked behind every corner, in every eye, ready to strike when life was at stake.

Arek shivered. That was too much philosophy for his brain right now. Besides, he had reached his destination.

"Marsh, wasn't it?" He put on a wide grin, waving at the Batarian, but waited for an amiable greeting in vain. The vendor ignored him. Unperturbed, Arek walked straight up to the stall, and leaned on the counter.

"I need your help."

"I need people with credits. As we both can't expect what we need from each other, why not get your human ass away from here?" Marsh picked up what looked like a high caliber barrel for shotguns, and thoroughly cleaned it with a rag. He put it back, and inspected a pile of thin metal slates. He glanced at Arek, and continued with sorting the slates by their sizes.

A volus showed interest in a collection of spare parts, and threw himself into bargaining before Marsh had finished his friendly 'hallo'. Words were exchanged quickly, and satisfied in his belief to have struck a bargain, the customer left.

Marsh filled the empty space with a used, but perfectly in shape pistol. A carnifex, if Arek wasn't mistaken. He smiled, nodding approvingly when the batarian scowled at turned away from him, and focused on his collection of weapon mods once more.

"Alright, alright!" After cleaning over the parts a second time he stuffed the rag behind his belt. He stomped to Arek, and slammed his fists on the counter. "I make you an offer: I let you ask a question, and in return, you finally leave my store alone!"

"How about I leave your store alone after you _answered_ my question?" Arek grinned, trying his best to keep down a chuckle at the batarian's exasperated snort.

"You heard my offer, take it or leave it!"

"Please, you're a businessman, bargaining is a part of the job."

"Yes," the batarian shot back, pointing at a passing elcor who eyed his store front with mild interest. "For paying customers, not for hairless pyjaks without a credit to their name."

"Apes, we descent from... nevermind." Sidetracking into science fields he had no clue about wouldn't bring him any further. He decided to come to the point, "Marsh, it's about Mojo. You know him, don't you?"

"Mojo? That damn son of a bitch." The vendor's pose eased, he even smiled when he picked up a barrel extension. "After all these years he still won't let me have a look at his viper. So stubborn, you'd think his mother's a krogan."

"Don't I know it," Arek sighed. He'd go a step further and say that krogans were easier to handle. At least they were straightforward in their appreciation as well as in their aggression. _Don't give them a reason, and they don't give you a cranial fracture. Easy as that._

"So you've known him for a while. Sure you can tell me where he'd hang out if he, well, doesn't really feel like company?"

"You mean, if he has another grudge against the rest of the world?"

"Exactly!" This guy seemed to know the turian quite well, and for a second, Arek was willing to believe that the role model of a jerk really had a friend in this galaxy.

"You've got some nerve, human." Marsh laughed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. With his back stretched to his full size, he was more than a head taller than Arek. "So you pissed him off, yes? No, don't say anything, your face tells me enough. Why am I not surprised." He shook his head, and returned to inspecting his goods. "Annoying little human. Why should I rat out a good customer to a pest like you?"

"You think I want to harm him?!" _Please, I'm the one who's one of the good guys here! I wasn't the one who let down his team mission for mission, and laughed at them afterwards!_

"I think he doesn't care for your company. And he's not the only one, you understand? Why do you humans always think the galaxy will jump because you bark?"

"I get it, I'll leave you alone, but I'd really be grateful if you helped me find him! It's kinda important." He put the rifle on the counter. "Maybe he doesn't want to see me, I'm sure he wants his viper back."

"What the... He went without her? That sounds like a story worth telling." His four eyes recognized the weapon at once, looking over it with mild curiosity.

"Not really, to be honest." With a sigh, he turned the viper around and showed him the inscription. "See, it's really his. I guess you know who I.K. is?"

"I pride myself to have made business with every merc of a higher rank, and of course with the best freelancers!" Marsh patted himself on his chest, a proud smirk coming with his serious nod.

"Kader was one of them. Decent, for a human. He knew the worth of a good gun when he saw it. He also was a regular for spare parts."

"Was? So he's dead?" A human that got along with this batarian, and with Mojo? This Kader either was a super hero, or a super villain, either way, he had to be an interesting guy. Or maybe just a crazy masochist.

"Who knows. He left Omega a few years ago, never heard of him again. Probably went to hell, and I thought Mojo followed him. I was surprised to see him again." There was a tone of relief and appreciation in his voice which Arek found hard to take serious, considering that he had wished Mojo to hell more than once over the last few weeks, daily.

"From what I know, he joined the turian special unit. Armygear Legion, or something."

"Armiger Legion. So the rumours were true after all. He joined the lawful side." The disappointment dripped heavy from his words as he looked down at the rifle.

"I'm sure it was in name only," Arek comforted him, unable to picture the turian as a heroic fighter for law and justice.

"I promise you that he tries his best to make my, our, life a living hell." Arek wished the delighted smile in Marsh's face at his words would surprise him. "You know, he tried to strangle me, just a few hours ago. Here." He pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing his throat. "See the marks?" Now the batarian grinned. Arek, however, only felt tired.

"Good. Glad to see he's still sane in his head."

"Yeah, sure." _His_ head began to ache. This was getting nowhere, and he was certainly not getting one step closer to find Mojo.

"Marsh, any idea where I can find him? I swear I'm not going to shoot him with his own rifle." He lifted the rifle. He tried to prop its stock against his shoulder the way he had seen Mojo do it. He clenched his hand around the grip, uncertain for a moment where he should place his other hand. No, no, they felt too close to his chest, which made it hard to balance that damn large gun. That couldn't be right, held this way his arms would be numb before he found a target through the scope, let alone before he fired the first shot. Blushing when the batarian chuckled, he put it down again.

"Guess he'd kick me to the ground before I figured how to aim with that damn thing." He'd stick with shockwaves and, if necessary, his smg, that was for sure. At least his inapt performance had put Marsh in a better mood, so he didn't make a fool of himself in vain.

"The former ExoGeni building, Kenzo district." He pointed behind him, over his shoulder, roughly in the direction where Arek remembered the shuttle service to be. "Has been occupied by beggars and crooks for years. Try the roof. He and Kader used to hang out there."

"Thanks, Marsh. I swear you'll never see me again." Finally, but – roof? So another climbing exercise was lying ahead for him. He grabbed the viper and turned on his heel. Kenzo district, the shuttle service should be able to help him with that. There was only one last thing.

"This Kader guy and Mojo, what were they exactly, to each other, I mean?"

"Partners. And now get lost, I've got work to do!"


	6. Pride and Prejudice in Space

There he was.

Arek swung one leg over the edge, pulled himself up, and rolled onto the roof. Lying on his back for a moment, he stared into the fake sky. The elevator to the roof had been broken years ago, the emergency stairway collapsed. Being forced to climb two floors to finally reach the roof had taken its toll – the muscles in his shoulders were burning, his legs were numb.

 _I won't climb as much as a mole hill ever again for the rest of my life!_ He wiped the sweat from his forehead, and staggered back to his feet. He shoved the bag holding the sniper rifle back on his shoulder and walked to the other end of the roof.

"Mojo."

The turian was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a ventilation shaft. Legs stretched, arms crossed, he stared past Arek into the distance.

"Not much of a climber, are you." Mojo's voice lacked its aloof snark, and while the greeting wasn't cordial, Arek found it easier to stomach than the usual 'fuck off' or 'get out of my sight, idiot'.

"Not my favorite pastime, true," he admitted, his mouth twitching as he wasn't sure if a smile was the right thing in this situation.

"Astonishing. For a species originating from apes."

Arek opened his mouth, ready to launch a retort, but then he decided to drop it.

"You know, you got a point. But hey, despite that, here I am." He opened his arms, tilted his head and allowed himself a light grin.

 _After asking my way like a tourist, being laughed at, and threatened to be skinned alive and being sold to a slaver if I don't stop snooping around when I searched in vain for the freaking elevator or stairs up here._ Of course Mojo wasn't thrilled to see him, and a word of appreciation was the last thing he expected – or really wanted – from that guy, but... still.

"That you are." Mojo's head jerked up, and finally, he looked at the human. "You might as well go ahead and say whatever you have to say and be done with it."

"Uh, yeah, guess you're right." _Stop staring, man!_ Arek ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head.

"Well," he began, bouncing on his toes. "I'm here to apologize. I'm sorry. People died because I was wrong, if I listened to you they'd still be alive."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, what else do you want? Me dropping on my knees in front of you?" He pushed his restless hands into the pockets of his pants, forcing his feet to stand still. How anybody could read anything from a turian's face was beyond him, and as he wasn't in the mood of facing Mojo's contempt he avoided looking at his eyes.

"No," Mojo snarled, baring his teeth. "Sure you aren't holding back another lecture? How everything's my fault, that I didn't save them when I could, that I'm to blame when nobody listens to me. That people died because nobody listens or trusts my word no matter how right I was." He broke off, taking a deep breath and releasing it with a sigh.

"Well, how do I put that..." Arek's foot scratched over the ground, rolling a small piece of scrap metal under his sole. If he thought back, he couldn't think of a day when pleasantries and polite words had worked with this guy. He might as well try the truth.

"You're an asshole, you suck at teamwork, and I'd rather prefer the company of a rabid varren than yours." He saw the turian's mandibles moving, but that could mean anything, from a smile to a warning, so he might as well ignore it.

"But... for a moment I took you for a blood thirsty killer. Somehow, I decided to think the worst of you, that you're capable of everything bad, because I don't like you. I mean, you're giving me enough reasons to dislike you but, well. A family is dead because I let my personal problems with you influence a professional decision. And I'm sorry for that. That's it. I guess." He took a step back, crossing his arms as well. Watching Mojo's face, hoping he might for once be able to decipher the turian's facial expressions, he waited for a reaction.

Air streaming from the vents created an illusion of a weak breeze. Arek's shirt clenched to his back, still slightly sweaty from the strenuous climb, and a chill crept down his spine. Standing still, he felt the pain in his shoulders, and a muscle in his left leg ached from a sudden cramp. Another minute of silence passed.

"I'm sorry they died, too," Mojo finally spoke, tilting his head back and staring at the sky. "Believe it or not, but I don't enjoy civilians die in front of my eyes either. Crooks, goons, people with military or any kind of training that should know better, fine by me. But children? Men or women who never held a weapon? I hate that."

"I see." Arek couldn't help but smiling, it was nice to hear Mojo sneer about something he actually agreed with. "I'm sorry I misjudged you."

"I misjudged you as well." The turian shrugged. Arek assumed that was the closest of a genuine apology he could expect; he guessed that this alone demanded some effort from Mojo, and he appreciated it.

"I thought fist thing you'd do when our paths cross is bathing in your triumph, enjoying every second you could rub in how I'm responsible for what happened."

"What?! You're kidding! I have my faults, but I'm not anything like that!" Suddenly, a new idea occurred Arek. He had made his own picture of Mojo, and it wasn't very pretty, colored with a decent amount of assumptions. He'd never taken in consideration that things went both ways, and that someone assumed things about him as the truth that were neither true nor pretty.

"I said I misjudged you," Mojo repeated after a pause.

"Same." After all, this was close to a normal conversation. Maybe...

"Not as much as you think, trust me on that." Mojo chuckle, and Arek caught an amused spark in the turian's green eyes. "I know I'm a jerk, and I have no intention of changing anything about that, if that's what you're hoping now. I know people like you don't understand it, but I am at ease with myself."

"Don't worry, I can't imagine you being anything else but a jerk." He saw no benefits of admitting that Mojo had been spot on – Arek had hoped against hope, for a short moment, that Mojo would finally become... what exactly? Normal? Agreeable? A considerate and friendly member of their squad? Well, that thought would have been amusing indeed, if the price others had to pay for them standing here like this hadn't been so high.

"But still, shit went down, and as a matter of fact you aren't happy with that."

"And we both have our share in this, I got that. I learned the same lesson. Whatever I think of you, and the other two, it was a mistake to let that interfere with my work. Don't get any ideas," he added when Arek smiled. "This is not the beginning of a wonderful friendship."

"Don't _you_ worry, 'wonderful' isn't a word that comes to my mind when it's about you. Ah, almost forgot!" Arek rolled his eyes, let the bag slide from his shoulder and pulled out the rifle. "If I'm not mistaken this belongs to you." He thought he saw the plates above Mojo's eyes moving when he handed him the rifle, almost as though he raised his eyebrows in surprise – if he had eyebrows.

"Thank you." He turned the viper, stroking over the frame. Giving a nod, he lifted it, taking a look through the scope, and nodded again. "Praise the Spirits, everything's good. I'm sorry."

It was Arek's turn to look at him in surprise when Mojo gently apologised to a gun. Arek appreciated weapons as a helpful tool once in a while, he understood that a good gun could make the only difference between life and death for those who didn't rely on biotic skills. Of course a reliable weapon was a valued, respected companion for many soldiers, he had met others who claimed a good gun was the most faithful partner a soldier could have, that wasn't what surprised him.

It was the absurdity to see this guy, who either wasn't able to deal with others or didn't want to, treating an object with tender affection.

"Can I ask you something?" There had been something on his mind since his talk with the batarian, and now, as he was watching the turian with his Viper, it was burning on his tongue.

"Ask whatever you want."

 _But don't expect an answer if the question doesn't please the great Mojo, I get it._ Tired of standing, Arek sat down, sighing with relief when the muscles in his legs relaxed.

"There's this engraving, from I.K. Marsh, you know, that batarian from the Omega Market, mentioned a guy named Kader. Mind me asking who he is?" He held his breath, expecting to be snarled at, that he should mind his own business and finally hit the road.

"A friend. Why?"

"Nothing!" He raised up his hands, defending himself from the suspicion the seemingly harmless question carried.

"Just curious." That, and nothing more.

"Curious if an asshole like me really has a friend who tinkered with his trusty weapon, right?"

"Well..." _This... was a smirk, right? Sarcasm or not?_

"Arek Turner, I don't tell you this because I need to prove anything to someone like you, or because I enjoy talking with you." Mojo put the rifle down on his lap, his hands resting on it as though he had resolved to protect it. He gazed at the weapon, his face moved slightly by what Arek now believed was a smile.

"Ibrahim Kader. A smart son of a bitch. Met him during an assignment here on Omega, a few years ago. We hated each other right from the start," he chuckled, one of his two long fingers tapping at the engraved letters.

"But turned out he was quite alright, for the arrogant human he was – is. Figured he had all the reasons to be full of himself. He knows how to wield a gun, has a gift for handling machines and computers, and of course, modifying weapons. He enforced the Viper's frame. Now she won't break when she has to use blunt force.

And no, I'm not going to tell you the story behind _that_. It's about him now, not me." He gave an impatient growl, and Arek closed his mouth before he had said anything. Mojo nodded, and continued,

"He's down to the point. Clear head, clear goals, no playing games. Can't disrespect a guy like that, and he respects that I'm a jerk and had no intention to change that. Once we sorted that out, it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Happy End."

"What's he doing now?" Arek dared to ask after a small pause.

"No idea. Next question." Mojo focused his attention on the Viper's thermal clip. He gave it a slap, and closer inspected it when the weapon ejected it.

"But if you're friends, why wouldn't you-"

"He also knew when to shut up and give a man a break." He put the clip back into its slot, listening to it clicking into its place.

"Okay, okay, I got it." _Sensitive topic, eh? Damn, now I'm more curious about that guy than before._ Not curious enough however to press the matter and to risk irritating the turian. This was the first time they actually talked, and compared to any previous exchange between them, this conversation was almost civil. The hostile tension between them was still there, but it had lost its aggressive edge.

"Thanks for telling me that much, I appreciate that." _It almost makes you human... turian... you get the idea._

"Didn't do that for you, remember? Told you, Ibrahim has every reason to be proud of himself, and damn, he is some vain bastard. He loves it when others talk about him."

"Mojo, do not fear!" A wide grin on his face, Arek put his right hand on his heart, and held his left up with crossed fingers. "I swear, at no point I assumed that you wanted to enjoy a friendly chat with me."

"I knew I should have given your impressively sharp mind a bit more credit." There it was again, the usual sarcasm that Mojo liked to use when he didn't flatly call Arek an idiot or dumbass.

"Very funny." He pulled up the bag and fished for two beverage cans. "And here I thought I was smart when I assumed we could both need a drink after all that climbing. And after what happened. Catch!" He tossed one of the cans, and the turian caught it in the air.

"If it means so much to you, fine – that wasn't the worst idea you had today. Satisfied?" Mojo screwed the lid from the can and flipped it to the ground.

"Satisfied. Let's see this as the beginning of not fucking things up as much as before, is that good for you?"

"Good enough." Mojo took a generous gulp, and, to Arek's horror, broke into a violent cough attack. "Fuck, what is this?" he croaked, holding the can in a trembling hand.

"Beer, it's just... Fuck! FUCK!" Arek jumped to his feet, and leapt towards the turian, seizing him by his shoulders. "I forgot! Goddammit! Mojo! I'm sorry, God, I'm fucking sorry! Fuck!" Cold sweat covered his forehead when Mojo looked up at him through half-closed eyes, gasping for air.

"I didn't mean to... Fuck. I'm an idiot! Don't die on me, hear me? I gonna get help! Where's the next hospital?"

"Zeta district," Mojo whispered faintly, his eyes rolling up.

"Wait here, I'll get a doctor!"

"No time..." He grabbed Arek by his arms, his whole body shaking. "Arek... take me there, or..." He fell silent. His hands let go of Arek, and his head dropped on his chest.

"Hang in there, okay? I'll get you there, and when all's good again, you can punch me in front of the whole crew, and have a good laugh!" _Fuck, fuck! How the hell do I get him down here... Dammit, Mojo, don't die now!_ He dragged him up by the wrist and shoved his shoulder under the turian's arm. "Damn, you're heavy..." He made a careful step, his knees shaking under his panic and Mojo's weight. How he should manage to climb down with Mojo as a load was beyond him, but he had to figure something out.

"Come on, man. That's no way to go out for a guy like you," he hissed through his teeth as he dragged him across the roof. His back ached with every step, and a protruding hip bone was stabbing his side. "I swear, I'll get you there in time, and if that's the last thing I'll ever – Mojo?!" He stopped in his track, holding his breath, listening. Mojo was – chuckling?

"Asshole! You goddamn asshole!" He pushed the turian away from him, clenching his fist when Mojo was shaking with laughter, holding his sides.

"That's not funny!" That was it, enough is enough! Who did this guy think he was? This wasn't a joking matter, he would have tried to carry him down this roof, probably broken every single bone in both their bodies. If he hadn't collapsed at the try to shove this heavy, tall jerk on his back... Just imagining what a pathetic sight he would have offered... No! This wasn't funny, and the dark space would freeze over before he allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch!

"Yes! It is!" the turian was roaring as he walked back to his spot and sat down again.

"You really got me worried! I thought you were dying!" Arek followed him, but remained standing, glowering above Mojo.

"I got that, and I'm really okay with that." Chuckling, he wiped a tear from his eye. "Better having you worried than trying to poison me."

"I'd never do something like that! I... I just..." Arek sighed when he picked up his still unopened beer. "Thought it was a good idea, and was so proud of my noble gesture that I forgot about that whole dextro-levo thing." Defeated, he slumped to the ground, ignoring his aching body. He tore the lid from his can, and gushed its contend down in one go.

"Too bad though, it's a good brand." Arek put the empty can down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But you are okay, are you? I mean, even if it doesn't kill you, if you need a doc after all, I'll go and drag one up here."

"Not every mix-up means instant death, or getting sick. Most of the time it does less than nothing, might as well eat paper. Ugly reactions can happen, but they're more rare, and depend on the individual, circumstances and substance, kinda unpredictable. Often and predictable enough, however-" He picked up the open can and shoved it towards Arek.

"Levo tastes disgusting. To me, your delicious human beer tastes like rotten fish with too much sugar, liquefied."

"Sounds horrible. I'm sorry," Arek repeated, feeling flat out exhausted. If he had been responsible for another death... He took the second beer and let it follow the fate of the first.

"But sorry or not, your prank was still cruel."

"Spur of the moment. You really wanted to try getting me off the roof somehow." He snickered again, pointing at Arek. "You. Who can hardly climb a drain."

"Yeah, yeah, just keep rubbing it in." He pulled a face, shaking his fist in a lukewarm attempt to threaten the turian if he dared to speak on. "What's it with you and roofs anyway? You seem obsessed with them."

"I appreciate the view."

"The view?! Are you kidding me?" He nodded at the darkness behind Mojo. "That's even more boring to look at than you."

"That's why I sit _here_ , smartass. Turn around."

"If you insist." He wasn't thrilled about standing up and turning his back to the turian, but he might as well humor him while Mojo was in this docile mood.

"Oh!" The market place that had impressed him when they were chasing after the coordinates was a small warm patch to his distant right. The tower of the Afterlife pierced into the sky like a thin, glowing needle. In front of him, a grey and black ocean of buildings stretched. Illuminated windows and lamps were scattered over it like a swarm of fireflies, but what caught Arek's awe was the horizon. A far away dawn ended the dusk as the lights of the dock beckoned a spaceship closer. Losing its momentum, the frigate was slowly sinking, as though it was in a trance, following the path like a moth was drawn to the flame of a candle.

Shuttles were shooting through the air, making him think of a flock of flushed birds escaping from a bird of prey.

The frigate was becoming slower to the point it seemed it didn't move at all, yet it did. He was too far away, and the noises of Omega were droning between him and the docks. So he was watching the silent spectacle, thinking of what lay behind and above – the darkness of space. An endless universe that was also moving and changing slowly, too slowly to grasp, yet it never halted. So many worlds within worlds within worlds...

By the time the spaceship had come to a hold a calm had fallen over him. If he could, he'd cling to this moment of peace, and keep on watching forever.

"Be careful, or it hypnotizes you."

"No... I..." A push against his shoulder knocked him off his balance. Arek staggered forward, finding himself back in reality the second his gaze was torn away from the docks. His back was still hurting, he was tired, and cold. He sighed. He was about to turn around to talk to Mojo, when realized that the turian was standing next to him, staring into the distance.

So this Kader and Mojo used to be up here, during their leisure time, and watched the horizon? The same Mojo who rather bit off his tongue than saying a friendly word to him enjoyed this sight, in the company of another human. Who was his friend, and partner – in which regard exactly?

 _Not that I care for your company, buddy, but when you do have friends, and like being around them, then..._ Their animosity had its amusing sides, as well as it was frustrating in its unfairness. He had firmly believed that the turian's dislike for him stemmed from one single reason – Mojo was a disagreeable asshole who hated everyone, and who was hated by he was forced to let go of that idea, and all it left was a stale frustration, along with an unpleasant realization.

 _What the fuck is so wrong about me? What did I do? And if I asked now, would I really want to hear an honest answer?_ He picked up his bag and shoved it back on his shoulder. It was time they returned, before Amalthea and the others worried. Then he looked at the docks for a last time.

"I start to get the appeal. Omega has its magical sides."

"Magical! Yeah!" Mojo sneered, turning himself away from the sight with an abrupt, dismissive wave of his hand.

"A cesspool of rotten morals and corruption, that's what it is. Can't wait to get off of this cursed rock." He shoved the Viper in its holster on his back, and started his way across the roof, Arek trotting beside him.

"Way to talk for someone coming from Omega." A smirk on his face, he looked up at the turian, but withstood the urge to give him a playful nudge.

 _Too soon._ A look at Mojo's face along with the disgusted growl also hinted more at a serious punch in his guts in return of a teasing gesture. If not a punch, then at least a stomp on the tentative truce that had just begun to grow.

"I'm not _from_ Omega, I _lived_ on Omega, for a few years."

"Oh? Then where are you from?" Arek frowned, thinking quickly. "Palaven?"

"Forget it, Turner."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, what happened doesn't mean we're friends, got it." His knowledge about turian society didn't reach further than that they were strong at colonisation, but there it ended. He might as well drop the topic when he didn't know any colonies by name anyway. Now that he was thinking about it, what he knew about turians – and most other species for that matter – in general wasn't impressive. After all, two of his squad mates were turian, and even Mojo seemed to know more about humanity than he, Arek, was knowing about Meyrani and Mojo's origins and their worlds.

"Good. And you're following me, why?"

They had reached the end of the roof. Arek looked down, and flinched. This was like staring into an abyss, what had he been thinking when he believed he could get down here, in panic, with an unconscious turian in tow?

"Uh, because we have to go back to the docks, so a shuttle can pick us up and bring us back to the Hamburg? Wait!" He took a step back, and activated his omni-tool. "I'll contact Thea, that we're done here. What's wrong?" He caught the turian staring at him, the green eyes wide with surprise.

"Nothing. I just didn't expect that I still belong to the team. After what happened." Mojo shrugged, tilted his head away, scratching his throat.

"You're an idiot. Thea, you hear me?" Arek grinned when the asari bellowed at him, demanding to know what took him so long.


	7. Rest and Recreation

The shuttle had landed inside the cruiser's hangar. The door opened, but before Arek set a foot outside, the sound of solid boots stomping towards him greeted them.

"Good, you're both back! And in time!" A smile of relief brightened her scowling face, and her strong hand patted Arek's shoulder. "Crusher was getting impatient, we have to leave Omega's orbit soon to keep up with the schedule. Everything all right? Did you find out anything?"

 _Oh fuck, I knew I forgot something!_ Over all the excitement of finding Mojo, and actually having a somewhat normal conversation with him, the second half of Amalthea's order had slipped his mind. His hopes to learn more about the turian during their shuttle flight back had been dampened by Mojo's tight-lipped replies. After a while, he had ignored Arek, and pretended to be asleep. Well, that was still better than being laughed at, insulted or mocked, and Arek considered the development as an improvement. Now he felt guilty that he had almost forgotten the ugly reason that had made this development possible.

That he couldn't answer Amalthea's question after she bought him the time to sort matters out with Mojo made it worse.

"Not much," he lied, which was bad enough, but not as bad as the thought of disappointing her. "Uh, Mojo, why don't you tell her what you know about that Murakos guy? After all, you know him from your time on Omega." He hoped that was true, and that Mojo wouldn't say anything that gave Arek's little act away. The turian looked at him through squinted eyes, gave a snort, and turned to the asari.

"Just anecdotes, nothing what the kid hadn't figured out already, I'm sure. Where is she? I need to talk to her."

"Meyrani? In her quarters." The frown returned to her face, and she took a step closer towards the turian. "After all, she suffered some ugly injuries, patched up or not, Mojo. She deserves a rest."

"Thanks." Not wasting another moment with Arek and Amalthea, Mojo walked past her, and hurried towards the elevator. The asari stared after him, her hand searching for Arek's shoulder.

"Did he just thank me?" Her fingers clenched around his shoulder, forcing Arek's knees to give in. "Hold me, Arek, I think I'm fainting!"

A shower. And sleep. Washing the last 24 hours off his body, and then banishing them into the realm of bad dreams, so they could be forgotten after a while. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. The elevator's doors opened, releasing Arek into the corridors of the crew's quarters.

Action was all good and fine, the more, the better, but two missions, two failures within a day and only very few hours of sleep in between – no, this wasn't Arek's idea of fun.

"Hey, Arek, finally back?" a short woman greeted him, May, one of the navigators if his memory didn't fool him. He smiled at the elderly woman and nodded, glad that she continued her way to the elevator. For once, he didn't feel like small talk. Small talk usually meant questions, and that meant he either had to give answers he didn't want to talk about, or he had to lie.

According to the artificial night-and-day cycle it was past noon. Not that it mattered. Noon or midnight, there was always the same humming from the engine room, and the chatter and the buzzing of crew members walking through the corridors. Some had finished their shift, and either headed for their quarters, the bar or the mess. That was a perk of living on a cruiser – with a large crew and shift duty, he could order breakfast food for lunch, dinner, or a midnight snack when he was on his way back to his own bed.

 _Talking about beds._ His omni-tool signalled an incoming call, and he grinned when he saw the caller's name.

"Good evening, Sydney. Yearning for company? Sorry!" He jumped out of the way when he bumped into a weary looking hangar worker. To avoid another crash he stopped, and squeezed himself closer to the wall. White light from tube lights fell upon him, blinding his tired eyes.

"Why else would I call you? Got two hours left before my shift starts. Are you free?" Husky voice, and straight to the point, that's what Arek liked about the chief engineer. Technically, he was free, at least as long as Amalthea was caught up in the paperwork for their unscheduled need of a shuttle. He was also tired. So, what would it be – giving himself into Sydney's able hands, or going into his own bed, alone with his thoughts, until Amalthea showed up and strangled him for slipping away before answering her questions.

"Gonna be at your room in 20 minutes, after a shower. Need to get rid off the smell of Omega."

"Be here in five, and I scrub it off your body myself."

Arek's grin widened. Somebody was hungry and didn't want to wait for his snack. Worked for him just fine, two hours with Sydney equalled an afternoon in the gym. If he skipped training he could sleep longer.

"On my way." He ended the call and turned around, heading back to the elevator. The chief had a quarter of his own, bathroom included, on the engineering deck, 'close to the madness,' as Syd used to say. It was too small to accommodate two people comfortably, but it offered enough space for sex.

"Hello, Arek," a croaking voice called after him when he was about to enter the elevator. "Wait, please."

Great, on his list of people whose company he could live without even on good days, this guy was in the top three.

"Barat. Hi." A fake smile would have to do, he was too tired for fake enthusiasm. The drell caught up with him, smiling down on him. "Weren't you and your team deployed on Urdak today?"

"We returned two hours ago. Success was certain, and we reached it fast. Forgive my forwardness, but I don't envy you. Bodyguard, such a fulfilling task, and on Omega! Ah, I don't wish to lie to you – in my heart, I always wanted to see Omega myself one day. I hope you had a pleasant time despite the ungraceful task?"

"As pleasant as a station founded on crime can be. Gotta admit though, Omega has some nice sides." Nice. Arek grinned at his own understatement. Beautiful, or awing was closer to the truth. The market from above, with the colorful life streaming through the streets, and the sight of docks where spaceships dived from the endless space into a tight-knitted world – Arek hadn't expected that he'd find beauty on the roof of an abandoned building. And he would have missed it if Mojo hadn't pointed it out to him. That this guy had an eye for things like that was difficult to believe, a puzzle piece that didn't want to fit into his picture of the turian.

"I'm sure it has."

Oh right, Barat was still there. Arek had a bad hand with infiltrators lately. Unlike a certain turian, the drell wasn't rude, nor had he picked up any fights with Arek, yet, but...

"Urdak is an interesting place. I assume in terms of crime, it is worse than Omega, less organized. That made _our_ assignment dangerous, of course. I shot off some heads, I'm afraid it couldn't be avoided."

"Probably not." When Mojo looked down on him, sneered at him or insulted him he could fight back. The turian mocked his hair, Arek mocked Mojo's scars, the universe was in balance.

The drell, sharply dressed in his dark clothes with the long, black coat, always showed pleasant manners. He always had a smile for him, and treated Arek with polite kindness. However, Barat's arrogance and smugness was so sickening, it drove Arek crazy. If he snapped at him, and the so friendly drell with his large, sad puppy eyes complained about him, Arek would be the kind of bad guy he didn't want to be. Funny, how a feature of a species were charming in the face of an individual he liked, and how he despised the same feature when another individual annoyed him. Too bad that Barat wasn't a second Kalron, or he would have enjoyed a quick chat with the second drell on board.

He twitched when Barat put a hand on Arek's shoulder.

"Do you have a free moment? Allow me to treat you for breakfast. I could tell you more of my mission, and you could tell me about yours."

"I'm sorry, I have a meeting." Well, that was one way to call it, and it wasn't a lie, except for the part of being sorry.

"Ah, what a shame. I hoped you could enlighten me why I was – complimented out of my own quarter by those two turians. Of course, I also hoped you'd spend some time in my company, instead of the hairy arms of the chief engineer."

"Uh, I... they kicked you out of your quarter?!" Right, Rani and Mojo shared a quarter with the two drell. The two teamed up against Barat? They _teamed up_? These news where fascinating enough to ignore the other remarks.

"I'm sure they'll divulge their secret to you in due time. You're a team, aren't you? Ah, I envy them." Barat leaned forward, fixing on Arek's eyes.

Arek shuddered, struggling against the impulse to jump back when a long, smooth finger glided along his throat.

"You should consider a drell some time. You'd be delighted with the pleasure my species can offer you." Eyes like wide, black pools were coming closer, and the intense voice vibrated in Arek's ears.

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." An unpleasant shudder was running down Arek's spine. The skin seemed to itch where Barat touch him, and Arek felt a sudden urge to scratch his throat, to make the itch go away. "But now excuse me, I gotta go, Syd's waiting."

"Enjoy yourself."

 _Exactly what I'm planning to do, thank you very much._ He hit the elevator button and slipped inside as soon as the door opened. He smiled, as politely as he could without pulling a grimace, and nodded Barat goodbye, waiting for the door to close.

 _Weirdo._ He selected the engineering deck, and leaned against the elevator's wall. Just his luck that he'd be on the same ship with a renegade turian and a predatory drell, and both had it in for him in the most contradictory ways. Yet, he couldn't deny that Barat had piqued his curiosity – was there really something unique sex with a drell offered? He had to ask Kalron about this. Hell, he wouldn't mind asking him for a roll in the proverbial hay to find out by himself, but alas, Kalron had given him a quite clear answer the last time he tried.

And then there was the mysterious sudden partnership between Rani and Mojo. What did he want from her all of the sudden, and whatever it was, she agreed to talk with him about it, in private? Could it be, that...

 _No, Arek, no judging of others by your own standards! Not everyone here is all about hooking up._ _Certainly not Rani who has her love of her life. Ah, sacred monogamy!_ The elevator came to its hold, and Arek stepped outside.

 _Thank God fate spared me that curse._ Without waiting for another encounter to delay his plans, Arek hurried to the chief engineer's quarter.

 _The building never seemed to end. He looked down – if he fell now, he'd fall to his death. He had to go on, there was a ledge to grab on, he had to reach it! The tips of his fingers touched it, but it wasn't enough. He stretched, and his foot was slipping from its hold. There, a cable! He let go of the wall, closing the hand around the cable._

 _His feet dangled above the endless abyss when the muscles his arm became weak. His fingers opened, the cable slipped from his grip and he stood on the roof._

" _Enjoy the view," a chuckling voice whispered, and the majestic starship across the market burst into fire._

" _We both have our share in this." A hand touched his shoulder. "I misjudged you, you should consider a drell, Arek Turner." And the world started shaking._

His head was throbbing, his eyes were hurting behind closed lids. He curled up, turned his head, but the shaking didn't stop.

"Arek! Don't pretend you're sleeping!"

The voice had changed, it was less deep, it has lost its flanging as it whispered his name.

"I'd rather fuck you than him... Ouch!" He shot up in his bed when his cheek was pinched. He rubbed his eyes, and blinked against the sleep that didn't want to give him free. Somebody had pulled away the light-tight curtain and sat on the edge of his bed. Artificial daylight illuminated the room behind the figure. He heard two other voices chatting, recognizing Sellrin, the salarian engineer who shared his quarter, and Alex, human sentinel and roommate no. 3.

His fourth roommate was glaring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, and no, I neither want to know who 'you' nor 'him' is." Amalthea grinned, poking his cheek. "You're putting some of the wildest asari maidens to shame, you know that, Arek Turner?"

"The way you say it I'm not sure if that's a compliment." He laughed, and regretted it when his headache came back at its full force. He wiped over the ceiling of his bunk bed, and the status screen flickered up in soft, orange letters and numbers. Good, he had worried for a moment that he had overslept, but it hadn't been more than three hours since he had fallen into his own bed.

"But I guess you didn't wake me up to question my morals?"

'"There's not much left to question," she chuckled. "Not that I mind, just don't end up pregnant before the war is over."

"I hope that I'll be dead and dust before science figures out how to make that possible! In case it happens during your lifetime, tell me about it when we meet in Heaven."

"If you can wait a few centuries, I'll give you a full update." They both grinned, and Arek wondered if the concept of having an 800 to 900 years difference of life expectation was as weird to the asari as it was to him if he thought about it too long. What did they think if they saw an old human, knowing that their own were still children around that age? It was a strange concept. He and Amalthea were around the same – well, stage of maturity, how could it not be confusing for the asari that Arek being in his late 20s was as old as an asari toddler, if measured solely in years.

And then there was Sellrin, Meyrani's boyfriend of some sorts, who had just hit 20 standard years, and yet, due to their different life expectation, the aalarian was his senior.

Vorcha, though, reached full maturity after six standard years. Arek shifted uncomfortably as he kept thinking about that, and he was glad when Amalthea spoke on.

"Talking about updates," she changed the topic, leading his thoughts into another direction. She wouldn't have woken him up without a good reason, and he hoped he didn't have to expect more bad news.

"We tried to find you earlier, but after we didn't find you here, nor in the showers, mess or bar, we could make some creative guesses that we'd rather not find you until you're back."

" _We?_ Wait this doesn't have, by any chance, something to do with Rani and Mojo suddenly having a private conversation after highjacking their room?"

"It has everything to do with that." She looked over her shoulder, assuring herself that Alex and Sellrin were still busy with their discussion. Judging from her frown, Arek guessed that, if she could, she'd push those two out of their room as well.

"First off, I have no clue what you've done, or how you've done it, but thank you! Mojo's still the rude, arrogant ass he is, but he has dropped a large portion of his don't-care act."

"Guess it was less my influence and more the fact that both our acts got people killed." Arek rubbed his temples, wondering if the screams and the smell of the fire would haunt him forever. Yes, losses were part of a soldier's life, and he had learned to go on and put the dead behind him. Still, it had been impossible to forget the first dead that had once happened because he didn't have a chance to prevent them, and now he wouldn't be able to forget the dead he was responsible for.

"Don't punish yourself, Arek." Almathea covered his clenched fists with her hands. "We figured out a bit more about that Murakos guy, also thanks to what Mojo could tell us. There was a chance for you to save the family, yes, but they didn't just die because you warned Murakos instead. He's ruthless, and he doesn't leave witnesses behind. From all what we know now, they would have died in the flames even when you guys hadn't been there, and even when all his demands had been met."

"I'm not sure that really makes me feel better. But I get what you're trying to say. If Rani hadn't intercepted the distress call, if we hadn't found them, if Mojo hadn't been from – lived on – Omega before we'd never had known about a shortcut, and they'd have died for sure. My decision just... sped up the inevitable... Nope, not really feeling better, I fear. But thanks for trying." He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He was grateful to have a friend like her, sane, strong, trustworthy, and he hoped he could be an equally good friend to her some day.

"You will. Give it some time." She smiled, then she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Listen, what I tell you know has to stay between the two of us, Meyrani and Mojo, you hear? No confidential drunk talks and confessions when you're with Kalron, or one of your lovers, Arek."

"Or course not! Thea, I know when to be serious!"

"Good. Meyrani and Mojo put together what they'd known so far, and dug a bit deeper," she began to explain. If she was surprised that the two of them suddenly worked together then she didn't show it. Arek, however, raised both eyebrows; the attempt to picture Mojo sitting peacefully at a table and exchanging information with any of them gave him a headache. He wished he could have seen that conversation, if it was only to know if Rani had to threaten to slit Mojo's throat again. Or – as unlikely as it sounded, even to him – if Mojo was realling pulling himself together from now on. He'd ask Amalthea about these specific details later, for know, he kept his mouth shut and listened.

"Mojo had a hunch that there was more going on than a simple haggle for money and influence between a politician and a gang. Murakos is a genius at wiping his traces, so there's not much yet. Except for one thing: One of his active contacts, an asari called Dinra, has also been in steady contact with a human named Boris Price."

"I'm not sure if I'm learning about Murakos, or if I'm hearing about a plot about the latest telenovela. Sorry, I shut up, please go on!" He bit his tongue when she growled at his interruption.

"Over the last years, Dinra was involved with one of the gangs on Omega, Eclipse. There are also few hints that she's a double agent for Aria T'orak, Omega's leader, but Meyrani and Mojo's research didn't confirm any of that."

"Boris Price is different?"

"Not so well hidden ties with Cerberus."

"Holy fuck!" Cerberus seemed to have their noses everywhere these days, and they'd been more relentless during the last week than they'd been over the last few years. And they rarely got involved with persons or situations just for the kick. "Am I wrong, or did this just get a lot bigger?"

"That's what we're going to find out soon," she replied with a grim smile. "Let's say, there's a Cerberus base that not only has Alliance relevant data, but is also under command of a close acquaintance of Price. Miraculously, against all the odds, we've been assigned to that mission, and no, I don't want to know how they managed to do that."

"Who did what... oh, you mean...!" He grinned. Meyrani was smart with computers on a level beyond Arek's grasp, he hadn't been aware of this adventurous streak slumbering in her. Hacking into the ship's computer and manipulating the assignments? Not bat, not bad at all.

 _I have to apologize to her for thinking she's just some cute, sweet nerd. Damn, I'm surrounded by badasses!_

"So, where are we going?" He pushed his blanket away, and threw his legs over the edge of his bed.

"Noveria, but don't get too excited, we still have two days until we leave this system." She shoved him back onto the bed when he was about to jump out. "You look horrible, so get enough sleep until then, will you? But first, let me tell you the plan."


	8. No Holiday on Ice

_Author's Note:_  
 _Creeping through the snow_  
 _blowing obstacles out the way,_  
 _still a few more miles to go_  
 _is it really worth the pay?_

Covering behind a rock, Arek glimpsed around its corner. Amalthea was crouching through the snow, closer to the trail leading away from the main road of Aleutsk Valley. He looked around. Mojo had taken cover to his left behind one of the many other rocks, his hands clenched around his rifle. Meyrani was waiting to his right for the signal to move on. Since her accident a few days ago she had recovered quickly, and assured them that she was ready to fight. Yet, she was avoiding to put too much weight on her leg.

The shuttle had dropped them close to Aleutsk Valley, far away enough from the sensors of Port Hanshan, Noveria's capital. Cerberus activities had been high recently, and their captain had assumed that landing too close to their destination would probably not remain undetected. Deep snow hindered their steps, and their armor didn't hinder the cold from creeping into their skin. Temperature regulation worked at its best, and as long as the snowstorm didn't return, they weren't in more serious danger than a few shivers.

Amalthea waved at Arek, and he leapt out from his hideout by her side.

She pointed at the trail. He nodded, threw himself on his stomach, and crawled forward, closer to the parking patrol vehicle. Two guards leaned against it, two more were standing close by. He hadn't seen the uniforms before, and from his position he couldn't read the bright yellow print on their backs, but he suspected they belonged to one of the major research companies stationed on Noveria. He opened the com channel.

"Definitely not Cerberus. What is this car? This isn't a Mako, right?"

"It's a rebuild of a M29 Grizzly IFV," Mojo answered to his surprised. "They were a standard vehicle used by the Alliance until a few decades ago, but proved too heavy for combat or research purposes after humanity expanded. Was replaced by the Mako. This looks like the classic model improved to be manoeuvred through high snow and on hard ice, even when the weather conditions worsen."

"Nerd." Arek grinned behind his mask, more broadly when the turian gave an indigent snort. "Anyway, anything I should know? Explosives on board? Any other than the standard weapons?"

"Not with the original model," Meyrani took over. "As they tempered with the outside, you can never know what they've put inside of it. My scans don't deliver any clear results from this distance."

"Guess I better don't blow that thing up then." His view up and down the trail was obstructed by rocks and overhanging shapes of ice. If he stood up and walked forward they'd spot him. His squad had no business with them, but the order was clear: Don't attract suspicion, avoid being noticed, get in, get what was needed, get out. In other words, another boring stealth mission, at least for the official part.

A rock large enough to cover him stood out several feet in front of him, from there, he should have a better overview of the situation.

 _No risk, no fun._ Keeping his head low he dashed through the snow. They'd only been on Noveria for half an hour, but his muscles were already stiff, but he pushed on.

He was fast enough to not sink into the white masses too deeply, and with one big leap, he dived behind the cover. Holding his breath, he counted to ten – if he had been noticed, he'd know any second. If the guards thought they had noticed anything, he had to keep it quiet for a moment in the hope they'd blame it on their imagination, or an animal. If there were any animals on this godforsaken snowball of a planet.

He counted down another dozen before he shoved himself around the cover. The guards were still talking with each other, their poses relaxed. Looking further down the path, to his left, he discovered the half of another vehicle, a standard shuttle. Its front was lurking around a bend, wearing different colors than the Grizzly. Guards from two different companies, hanging out together out of sight from the main road, having a chat – Arek doubted they were here on business, or investigating anything.

 _Lazing on the job, eh? How about a little excitement to lift your work ethics?_ He cursed whoever was responsible for the dark color of his armor, if he blended in with the white and grey around him, he could sneak closer to the shuttle, making things a lot easier.

"I got this, guys! Come closer, but stick to the walls. Run once they're distracted!"

"Confirmed," Amalthea answered, and he set to work. Back on his stomach, he let himself sink deeper into the snow, then he crawled on. If he messed with the shuttle from here there was no chance they didn't notice him, so he had to distract them first from the distraction.

 _That might work though..._ Several meters to his right, a group of icicle was hanging from a ledge. If he brought those to fall... He worked his way through the snow, moving closer to the stone wall to his left. From here, the shuttle was in plain view to his left, to his right the group of guards, and only a bit further, the icicles. Using a shockwave was out of option, the way it travelled through the air would catch their attention before it reached its destination.

 _Too bad for you that I still have another ace up my sleeve._ He selected a spot between the smaller icicles behind the largest. He focused, watching the air wavering as he pulled its energy into a tiny, blue sphere. The first icicle moved, pulled towards the centre of the small singularity field. Carefully, he allowed it to grow, not too fast, not too big. Sweat formed on his forehead – using forceful control was much more difficult than simply creating the core of the field and letting it expand into its natural size on its own terms.

The icicles were vibrating, torn between their frozen stasis and the singularity's gravitation. Only a little more...

A white flash of light hit the unstable field.

The following explosion shattered the fragile ice around it, and shaken by the impact, a layer of snow from the ledge above crumbled and crashed downhill.

The heads of the guards jerked around at the sudden noise, only a second before the buzzing remains of the shattered forcefield dissolved into thin air. All for of them pulled their guns and ran towards the commotion.

Their backs were turned towards Arek, who didn't waste any time – he rose from the snow, and sent a shockwave towards the shuttle. He didn't want to destroy it, but the used force was still strong enough to give the vehicle a strong push. Its side lifted from the ground, offering the second shockwave enough surface to push the shuttle up and on its back.

The four guards forgot about the avalanche, spun around and ran back to the shuttle.

"NOW!" Arek shouted shortly before they reached it, and jumped to his feet. Running as fast as the ground allowed him he dashed across the road, his three squad members right behind him.

"That was close, think they saw us?" They had kept running through the rough terrain for solid ten minutes before they slowed down, and Arek gasped for enough air to speak.

"Most likely," Meyrani panted beside him. "But thank to your diversion chances are good they didn't get a closer look at our uniforms."

Arek heard a sharp hiss before she muted her channel. Her shoulders were hunched, and she was limping. Slightly so, and she tried to cover it, but not only Arek had noticed it.

"They didn't look like they were up for a hike, I think we can take it easy from here on." Amalthea fell from the firm jog into a trot, and the others followed suit. "Rani, want me to carry some of your equipment? The turret alone is heavy enough. Give me at least your grenades." The asari pointed at the belt hanging around the turian's waist.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." Meyrani had re-established her com channel, and her voice was free from pain, or any strain at all. "Besides," she chuckled. "I'd rather not have you charge into an enemy or trigger one of your biotic fields with these on your body."

"Tough like nails, like always." Arek gave her shoulder a friendly slap, admiring how she was holding up. His sore muscles had hardly recovered from his climbing adventures on Omega, and now he found himself in the mountains, pulling himself up a rock, and offering Meyrani a hand to pull her up. He rubbed his hands against each other once everyone was up and they walked on. The fabric of his gloves had reached their limit, and his fingers threatened to become stiff if he didn't move them.

He checked the map of this region on his omni-tool, looking up with a sigh. If nothing came up they should reach their destination in twenty more minutes, give or take, not calculating in the high formation of rocks they had to climb. The wall was covered in ice, like the rest of the damn planet, except for the parts that were covered with snow. Hiding more ice underneath. At least the filter of his visor was adjusting without any trouble, shielding his eyes from the brightness around him. Noveria's sun had reached its peak, and while it was not strong enough to melt the everlasting snow, it light reflected from every ice crystal around them. The snow was glittering, and the ice wall shimmered with a soft, bluish glow.

"Wouldn't mind a vacation here over Christmas, but damn, as a job, this place sucks. Let me guess – we go above, not around?"

"You humans and your Christmas!" Amalthea laughed, looking up the obstacle. "There's no way around it, literally. The base is somewhere up this plateau, so we have to climb it sooner or later."

"Don't take me as lazy, but maybe we should search for a more... efficient path." Arek pulled off one of his gloves and let his fingers run over the solid ice. "This here looks pretty smooth. Although I bet our turian chimp would somehow manage to go up there, and if it's by glaring holes into the ice. Which reminds me-" He turned around, looking at Mojo who stood behind them with his arms crossed. "What's up with you now? Ran Out of snark? What?" he asked when the two women chuckled behind their helmets.

"Haven't you wondered why your singularity detonated? _Somebody_ we won't mention by name had the bright idea to do some stuff with his omni-tool, which broke it." Amalthea shrugged, shaking her head. Meyrani walked towards Mojo, tapping at his arm. He stretched it out, and she activated the scanner of her own omni-tool, waving it over his.

"It's not broken, temporarily disabled," she corrected their leader. "He overclocked the processors and discharged the generated heat as an electrical impulse."

"How can he fuck up using an omni-tool?! Uh, he can't hear me, can he?" At least the helmet was giving Arek an excuse for not trying to read the turian's facial expression.

"Probably not, unless you both take off your helmets. And it wasn't an accident, he knew what he was doing." Meyrani deactivated her scanner and nodded, giving the other turian the thumbs-up. "The tool is back to a tolerable temperature. The repair matrix is working, and he should be back online soon."

"Good, barking orders at him in sign language just doesn't cut it." Amalthea laughed, gesturing at the others to follow her further into the mountains.

"Probably not, but I for my part will enjoy the silence while it lasts."

"Arek, I think that goes both ways in this case. Now come!" The asari stomped through the snow, here eyes set on the map of her tool. "Let's see if we can find a better spot to get up there without moving too far away."

The door slid open, and Meyrani signalled them to hurry. Arek and the others shot out of their cover, a Cerberus shuttle that was parking in the middle of the base's landing zone. They pressed against the wall behind the door, and waited for the next signal from their engineer. Meyrani's fingertips were dancing over the display of her omni-tool. She entered a command, waited a moment, and began typing again. At least, she nodded. Walking back to them, she took off her helmet.

"I fed the cams with a loop of the last 20 minutes and disabled the motion sensors. The security is on a medium level, nothing Mojo and I can't deal with. Still, I recommend Arek and you staying behind us, in case we stumble over unexpected measurements."

"Got it. Well done, Rani." Amalthea pulled off her helmet and put it on a ground. She waited until Arek and Mojo's helmets joined hers.

"All right." She lowered her voice to a whisper as she spoke on,"From here, Rani and I will go and retrieve the plans from their so-called 'secret lab', following the official orders. Mojo, is your omni-tool working?"

The turian tapped his wrist, and shook his head.

"Repair scan and data reconstruction at 78%."

"Meyrani, transfer the map of the upper floor to Arek's omni-tool," the asari ordered; Meyrani obliged within seconds, finishing the task while she spoke, "The data is encrypted so it can slip under the official radar. Mojo will decipher it for you."

"Wait, I thought I was going with you two, since when did we agree on me joining him?" Arek bit on his tongue. Since their return from Omega he had kept his mouth shut at Mojo's snide remarks, and in return, Mojo had dropped the mockery, and switched to ignoring Arek. He wouldn't call the atmosphere between them friendly, but he'd rather keep it quiet between them than going back to the open hostility.

"For once, he has a point. I don't need a babysitter," Mojo joined his protest to Arek's relief.

"I agreed on that with me and myself, and therefore, you two are outnumbered! Did any of you really believe I'd let one of you wander off alone, without backup?" Chuckling, she lifted her chin, her hands stemmed on her hips. That was her last word on the matter, and Arek knew better than to argue, or to question her authority, yet, he was still irritated.

"And why telling us that now, and not right away?"

"So you'd get on my nerves about it during the whole trip? I don't think so." With that, the topic was off the table. She pulled her gun, patted Meyrani's shoulder, and nodded at the corridor stretching in front them. "Now, everyone! Helmets back on, and get going! Arek, don't forget to switch to our closed com channel! Mojo, you, too, once you're back online!"

Meyrani's manipulation of the security cameras proved successful. The two groups split once they reached the elevator. Amalthea and Meyrani were remaining on the ground floor, following the way down to the laboratories, while Mojo and Arek searched for the emergency stairway leading to the offices on the first floor. Arek kept close to the grey wall, trying to hide himself in one of the few shadows of the well-lit corridor. He pressed his ear to the door in front of them – nothing. He opened it, and grinned over his success. The stairs lay in front of him unguarded.

"Cerberus feels pretty safe up here," he whispered, and gestured Mojo to follow him.

"No wonder. It takes a group of fools to march through that spirit forsaken hell of ice to get here just for fun. Send me a copy of the map." Mojo's voice grumbled into his ear – so his omni-tool had recovered from its recent misuse.

"So it's true, turians don't deal well with the cold?" Arek moved the small data package across his screen and transferred it to his squad member.

"I appreciate decent and reasonable weather. Don't touch the door!"

Arek's hand jerked back before his fingertips touched the lock. Mojo walked past him, and scanned the door.

"Just waltzing in would have been too easy, eh?" Arek moved a few steps back downstairs to get a better overview. Nobody had followed them, the door leading to the ground floor was still closed as they had left it a moment ago. He shoved his mask up to uncover his ears and listened – silence.

"It's safe now." A low signal from Mojo's omni-tool confirmed the hack, and the door opened. The turian stepped into the next corridor, holding his viper, ready to either fire or smash it into an enemy's face. "All good here." He lowered the weapon, and checked the map. "Come now!"

"I'm sure there's some law against locking an emergency exit." Arek pulled the mask down and jogged after him, his fingers twitching and ready to launch a biotic attack, half-expecting a dozen of troopers jumping into their way.

"Yeah. Because Cerberus is so concerned about adhering to the law," Mojo spat, taking cover behind a door frame leading into a foyer. "Watch your step, things are going too smoothly."

"Pessimist." In absence of another cover, Arek sneaked up behind Mojo; in his armor, the tall turian's back wasn't exactly a secret hiding place, but for the slim human in his light protective suit it worked as a shield well enough, in case they were attacked.

They waited a moment, both listening, and staring on their omni-tools – they were the only detected lifeforms. A generator between the walls pumped air through the vents with a constant, buzzing noise. Arek wondered if the rushing sound came from the thermal heating, or if the weather outside had changed.

Two desks were standing in the foyer, the computers on top of them on stand-by. The windowless room lacked any personal touch. The walls were as grey and barren as those of the corridors. The cold floor reflected the bright, fluorescent light from the ceiling lamps. If it weren't for the lack of dust Arek would have assumed this place had been abandoned for a while.

"Boring." He walked around one of the desks. The top was clean and empty, not one stray piece of paper, no forgotten data pad, not even a picture of a family member, or at least a dog. He reached for one of the drawers, rattling it.

"Locked, but I think I can pick you think we should give these a closer look?" He turned around, but Mojo was already standing in front of the door at the end of the room.

"If something's here I doubt they'd hide it on their secretaries' computers or in their desks." He waved his arm over the door's lock, giving a contemptuous sneer. "Of course."

"Do we need Meyrani?" Arek moved closer, throwing a curious glance past the turian.

"Of course not." Typing away on his screen, Mojo scowled at the door, waiting for the signal to change to green. Arek waiting, fearing every moment they were standing in front of this door was giving Cerberus more time to come up with a nasty surprise for him. He tiptoed through the room, scanning it for hidden bugs. Nothing. And no signs of anyone coming.

"Strange. You'd think somebody was here, in the middle of the day." He returned to Mojo, waiting in vain for an answer. "You know what you're doing, right?" He observed the columns of code on the turian's omni-tool, understanding not one single line. "Never thought a guy like you was into hacking."

He waited a moment, and leaned against the wall when he was ignored again. Time stretched endlessly, even when only one or two minutes passed, and he was getting bored.

He was missing a good fight, one in an area wide enough for him to ran around, and enemies to kick out of their socks with his skills. Of what use where his biotic powers – excellent biotic powers – if there wasn't anything to do for him. He envied Amalthea, at least Meyrani would talk with her, and give her real answers if she asked something.

To make things worse, after Omega, Arek had become curious. Who exactly was this guy whose eyes were banned at the screen? More than a rude, trigger happy sniper, that was for sure, but Arek knew better than trying to start a conversation, neither a 'shut up' nor having his head bitten off would bring more insight.

All he could do was checking this sad excuse of an office once more. Who knew, maybe he'd find something helpful inside one of the desks, or at least something that would entertain his mind for a bit. He walked up to the nearest workstation when a satisfied grunt called him back.

Finally, the lock on the door turned green.


	9. Office Space

_Author's Note:_  
 _If little kids are bored they get weird ideas._

"About time. No offense, just grudging with the lock here, and the dull place. Isn't Cerberus usually all about fancy stuff?"

"Depends on where you stand, obviously."

"Well." Arek pushed himself the wall, grinning once he walked into the next room. "That's more like it." A white carpet absorbed his steps. While the walls were the same like in the rest of the building, large painting gave them an air of splendour. He walked past a statue, an abstract figure of square shapes and spheres connected by wires. He stared at it, tilting his head to read the title.

"Waterfall. Funny, would have bet it's 'Hi, My Name is Art and I'm Expensive.'". That was a chuckle! I heard it! Short, and cut off by a cough, but he was sure that for the first time, he had managed to lure a laugh out of Mojo. He thought of saying something, but changed his mind. No need to push it.

He left scanning the office to Mojo, and headed straight to the desk. The piece reminded him of the one in Hackett's office. Straight lines, refined in its simplicity, made from dark, polished wood. He let his fingers glide over the surface. Nice, better than those cold metal constructions in the foyer. He forget about the desk the second he spotted the chair.

"Why do we never get an objective like 'Help yourself with a comfy chair'?" The dark leather creaked under his weight. Sighing, he leaned back and put his hands on the armrest, stroking the smooth material. His feet rested on the desk.

"Get moving and let me do my job." Mojo stood behind him, grabbed the chair by its back, and gave it an abrupt turn that hurled Arek out of his seat.

"You're a killjoy, do you know that?" Scowling, he shot a glance of regret at the chair that now had the turian sitting on it. Well, there was still the dark, red sofa standing at the wall, opposite to the window. He threw himself between the cushions. It wasn't leather, but comfortable enough. He pulled off his protective mask, and stared out of the window. The sun had disappeared behind a layer of heavy clouds. Those hoovering above the base were of a fluffy white, but the further he looked into the distance, the darker they became. At the horizon, the sky was almost black. A few innocent snowflakes were dancing in front of the window, and he heard the wind howling.

"Those are things you learn when you're friend's an engineer and computer scientist."

Arek looked up, for a moment confused where the voice was coming from, and what it was talking about.

"Oh. Yes." He recognized the late answer of his question from before, confused that Mojo chose to answer him. "You mean Rani?"

"Ibrahim."

"Of course, your old friend." What had he said on Omega again – it wasn't about talking with Arek, but talking about this Ibrahim. So that was why he was talking, and for a second Arek had been foolish enough to believe Mojo wanted to chat. Silly me.

"What's with Rani? You two were pretty friendly with each other, all of a sudden."

"Not friendly," the turian replied, without looking up from his work. After pulling off his helmet and placing it on the desk, he had switched on the computer, and connected it with his omni-tool, so far Arek could follow. "Her expertise in computer science is a key to solving this whole mess."

That whole mess, in other words, Murakos' alleged connection to Cerberus, and what had led to the murder of the Kabale family. His squad mates had been obsessed by this case since they had returned from Omega. Arek, too, would have been happy to find out what had led to the tragedy, and to put a stop to whatever was brewing up. Only – after retelling what he had witnessed there wasn't much left to do for him. He had to leave the research to Meyrani and Mojo, and Amalthea saw it as her responsibility to shield them from their superiors. Arek knew how to use his omni-tool, how to use a computer, but he wasn't hacker, and he was lacking access to further information and the direct line to the captain.  
As it was, all he was doing what the others asked him to do, and waiting for the moment when his battle skills were required. If this moment ever came; there was no guarantee that they weren't just led on a wild goose chase.

"She's a genius, isn't she? I'm surprised she was willing to listen to you. No offense – again," he sighed, finding no amusement in the challenge to word his questions so that Mojo wouldn't take them as another provocation. "What I mean is, before Omega, she threatened to kill you. And then she just listens to you, willing to break enough regulations to risk her career? Because you asked her?"

"You wouldn't survive long on Omega if you are fooled so easily by youth and a pretty face." Mojo paused his typing and leaned back into the chair. "The kid's not half as innocent as you think. Haven't you wondered how she learned about the distress call?"

"Well, not really," Arek had to admit, frowning as he thought about it. There was a constant stream of news, updates, information and also distress calls that were sent to their omni-tools. About the war, where the SSV Hamburg was heading, updates about finished jobs, data about new assignment, and usually, brief summaries about the jobs of the other squads.  
He jerked up, turning around and staring at Mojo.

"Omega's security doesn't belong to our ship!"

"Congratulation, you got it. Which means, she hacked into their channels. Curiosity, or hoping for something interesting we could meddle with, no idea. Fact is," he continued to explain while gazing at the ceiling, "She is an excellent hacker, she was excited about the distress call, devastated by the result. She'd hack into the Geth's hive mind if that got her revenge. Gotta leave it to her, the kid's dedicated.

Besides." Mojo chuckled, his face moving in a way Arek assumed was a grin. "It helped that she thinks I'm hot."

"Oh come on! That's ridiculous!" Arek sneered, falling back onto the sofa. "I happen to know that she thinks you're a jerk." Like every sensible person on board, but he kept that to himself.

"I said she thinks I'm hot, not that she wants to marry me."

"And she told you that."

"Believe it or not, but there's one person in this room right now who can read a turian's face, and it's not you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, shame on me." These jokes weren't getting better because their core was the truth. "So, did you guys fuck?" He grinned from the inner satisfaction when Mojo choked, and began to cough.

"Spirits, Turner, not everyone solves their problems by... this way." His fingertips were tapping on the armrests.

"Well, sometimes it works." Arek shrugged, unfazed by the not too subtle implication.

'"No, we didn't, before you spread any rumours. She wouldn't cheat on her Mr Brain, and I'm not interested in... kids."

"Isn't she 19? It's legal as far as I'm informed." Forgive me, Rani, but this is too good! If he had one wish, he'd ask for turians to be able to blush. Judging from the way Mojo shifted in his seat, looking from the computer to the window and back, the mandibles twitching, Arek had hit a nerve. Or rather, found a topic that made Mojo lose his cool, without snapping and threatening to kill Arek.

"Shut up, I have to focus!" He shot a dark glare at Arek, then he bent over the keyboard and his omni-tool. "If you're bored, search for the heating and turn it up."

"Sure, hot stuff." Arek chuckled and stood up, grinning at the turian's growls. Aw, if you weren't such an asshole that would almost be cute. He wasn't feeling cold, while it wasn't hot in this office, the temperature was agreeable, especially after their mountain hike outside. But as he was bored anyway, he might as well have another look around this place, although he guessed that Mojo could temper with the heating through his omni-tool if he wanted.  
Don't think that would distract me enough to forget about this. He glanced at the turian when he walked past him. Since they had first met, Arek had thought that Meyrani was pretty, in an unusual, fascinating way, so different from human females. He hadn't wasted much time to reflect on Mojo in that regard. The scars covering his face made him stand out, and Arek's knowledge about the importance of facial tattoos combined with his opinion on Mojo's character had offered a simple solution: Ugly as hell. He had to ask Rani about that, and he was dying to know what she had to say about Mojo's claim. Frankly, he expected to have a good laugh.

He finished his walk around the room, finding nothing that resembled a control panel for the heating. He returned to the sofa, and sat down. Mojo didn't look up from his task, nor did he say another word. The room was silent, all Arek heard was his own breath, the humming of the technology that kept the base warm and lit, and, once in a while, the turian typing on the computer's keyboard.  
Arek checked his own omni-tool – no updates from Thea and Rani, so everything was going well for them. He was about to open the com channel, thinking he might as well ask them how much more time they needed, and if there was anything he could do, but then he stopped. He turned off the interface, stood up, and walked over to the desk.

"You're a pest. What do you want now?" Mojo growled when Arek sat down on the desk's surface. Arek didn't answer at first, only watched him in silence, and Mojo returned to ignoring him.

"We should fuck."

"WHAT?!" Mojo's head jerked up, staring at Arek's serious face with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Are you out of your mind?!"

"You said it yourself, some of us solve their problems in bed," Arek explained with a light, but earnest smile. "And as I said, sometimes it works. Mojo, we're making our lives and our work a living hell. It got better, but there's still this hostile tension between us. Why not turn it into sexual tension, and act on it? Better than strangling each other. It's only logical."

"It's not logical at all!"

"And you're into guys anyway, right?" Arek continued, ignoring the turian's protest. "That's why you aren't interested in Rani, although she's such a pretty, smart girl." That, and whatever was going on between you and that Ibrahim.

"Mostly, it's not like I never... that's not the point! I... I have work to do." He gave Arek a push, but before he could shove him from the desk, Arek grabbed his wrist.

"Think about it. I mean, I didn't say I want to marry you." Arek grinned all over his face. If he remembered one turian facial expression for the rest of his life, then it would be Mojo being flabbergasted.

"You are serious, aren't you?" Mojo pulled his hand free after a short pause. When Arek nodded, stood up, still struggling to keep his face calm. Towering over Arek, he put his hands on the desk, his face only inches away from Arek.

"How many?" he asked, lowering his mandibles to bare his teeth.

"Uh, I don't follow?" Arek scratched his head, refusing to move away.

"How many turians so far?"

"Well, none. But it works between humans and turians, I know that much. I've seen mixed couples, and isn't even Commander Shepard with a turian? Heard that on the news." No, I'm not nervous, and I have not bitten off more than I can chew.

"Watch real news for once instead of those gossip channels. So you don't even know what you'd get yourself into?" Something was lurking in Mojo's lowered, hoarse voice as he spoke, something that Arek couldn't identify. A nervous shudder ran down his spine, but he maintained his smirk.

"Hey, I'm not a virgin, I know how to take a dick, thought you were aware." He swallowed a chuckle when the turian twitched at his language and looked away, his composure already shuttered.

"The whole ship is. What if I... if turian males are differently.. built than humans?"

"Like what, twice the size and covered with spikes and ridges?" His laughter broke off when Mojo raised the plates above his eyes in mild surprise.

"Oh, so you did at least research something about turians. Glad you got your priorities straight."

"Wait, that's true? I mean, sure! Hey, who doesn't love a challenge?" If Mojo thought he would back off so easily he was wrong. Sure, he'd give him some time to think about it, and if Mojo stuck with his 'no', then fine. If he changed his mind, well.  
Time to get kinky, I guess. Unless he was kidding. I mean, he could be joking, right?

"What do you say, I'm sure we can find a quiet corner once we're back on the Hamburg."

"Forget it." Mojo turned away, ending the discussion with a threatening growl. "Now excuse me, I have to crack another partition." Mojo sat down again, and checked the process on the computer screen. He gave a satisfied nod, and resumed his work. "Call the others, we'll be done here in a few minutes."

"Not necessary, incoming call from Thea. And don't think the last word is spoken yet!" He activated his tool and accepted the call. "Hey boss! How's it going?"

"Arek! We've been discovered! We got into hiding in time, but there are troopers on your way, and more reinforcements are coming! Get out of there NOW!"

"Fuck! We gotta go, Mojo!"

"Not now!" His eyes glued to the screen, Mojo's fingers moved feverishly over the keys. "I almost have it! I need two more minutes!" he hissed through clenched teeth. Arek watched his intense face, watched how the turian's shoulders and back were becoming so tensed that Arek feared Mojo's spine would snap.

No, not again. Not the same mistake.

"Thea, send us the coordinates of the rendezvous point, meet you there!" Arek broke off the call and jumped off the table. "I'll buy you five minutes! Just make sure it's not for nothing!" He ran towards the door, snatching his mask from the sofa and pulled it over his head.

"Finally, a job for me!"


	10. Growing with the Challenges

_Author's Note:_  
 _In this chapter, I came to realize once more that writing action scenes is freaking hard! I base fight dynamics on the ME multiplayer (which is fun by the way. If you haven't tried it yet, I can only recommend it.), most of the time. There will be tiny inaccuracies - it's not always possible to transfer in-game mechanics 1:1 into a story (cool down times, how shields and barriers work, medigel that brings the wounded back from the death, things like that). So please don't be confused if you remember things slightly different from playing the game._

Arek dashed out of the office. Half through the foyer, the door to the stairway was smashed open. A shockwave hit the Cerberus trooper's chest and threw him back where he came from.

"It's a biotic!" somebody shouted from further downstairs through the angry yells.

"And there's enough for all of you babes!" Arek shouted, grinning as he pictured how a group of troopers was knocked off their feet and pushed down the stairs. A gun fired, missing his head by several inches. Before they could recover their aim, Arek jumped behind one of the desks, taking cover. The next figure jogged through the door, and was greeted like his colleague.

"At least try to make it a challenge!" He fired a third, a weaker shockwave without aiming at anything in particular; just a little thing for show. He heard voices and footsteps, but nobody came closer. This wasn't a good sign, but if they took a moment to change their strategy they helped Arek buying the extra time Mojo needed.

A shape moved behind the door frame, and Arek shot the next shockwave – the attacker didn't fell over, but opened gunfire from behind his wide shield.

"Fucking guardians." Glancing over his cover, he focused on the air behind the now two guardians, conjuring a singularity field. It worked – it pulled them away from their shields. As soon as they left the torsos of the guards uncovered, Arek fired another shockwave.

But his attack had cost him valuable seconds – three troopers ducked and rolled from behind the guardians over the floor, escaping the field's gravitational pull. Arek began to form another shockwave, but broke off. His vision was becoming blurry from attacking too many times in a short time; if he kept this speed up, he risked fainting for a weak result.

He grabbed his submachine gun and fired. Two of the troopers fell, the third was taken out by a hearty smash against his head with a chair when he came to close.

Arek had no time to convince himself that the trooper was dead, or at least knocked out for a longer while – the next group stormed inside the room. A lamp flickered to the next to the door. The elevator!

"Fuck... Mojo, do you hear me? How much longer do you-" Shots pierced through the desk. Arek rolled back, and pressed himself against the wall, avoiding the deadly salve by a whisker. He had recovered enough to take out two more troopers and to relieve another guardian from his shield.

The elevator opened.

"Oh no, not you freaks. Sorry, guys, I'm not into whipping." He grabbed the chair a second time and hurled it towards two dragoons before they could jump at him with their biotic lashes. The valuable second was enough for him to place another singularity in front of them. Their armor was too heavy for the field to pull them off their feet, but for a moment, their movement was slowed down.

Arek backed away, and leaped behind the second desk.

He threw a volley of weakened shockwaves through the room. His head began to hurt. Sweat formed on his temples and down his spine, but he had no choice. He had to push back long enough for Mojo to finish, until then, he had to hold his position. Firing his gun allowed him to recover from the strain of producing biotic attacks, the next array of shockwaves allowed the smg to cool down before it overheated. There was no time to change the thermal clip.

"Fuck off, space ninja!" He jumped up, grabbed the computer and threw it at the phantom. The slender, wiry figure dodged the blunt attack. Arek could have sworn he heard her giggle. He stepped back, ducking to evade the shots at him. His attack missed her, and fizzled out when it hit the shield of the next guard.

He reached for his gun. A sharp pain cut across his upper legs; before he could fire, he lost his balance. Falling on his back he dropped the smg, and when the white flashes cleared from his vision, the phantom was standing above him, her sword raised.

She halted – her body was twitching.

Then, her head was jerked back when a shot pierced through her forehead. The sword fell to the floor, and the phantom crashed down next to it.

"Move!" A second shot hit a dragoon square in the chest, drilling through the armor. A hand grabbed Arek by his arm and dragged him up.

"Damn, I was never so happy to see you!" Arek laughed, more stumbling than running after Mojo back into the office while shots were whizzing past their heads.

"Less talking, more moving!" Mojo pulled him through the office door, hit the lock's interface, and it fell shut. Arek let himself fall against the door with his back, gasping for air. His legs were still hurting from the dragoon's attack. The lash had cut through the fabric of his suit and scorched his skin.

"Any secret passage out of here?" he panted, shrinking away from the door when it was hit with blunt force from the other side. The turian walked across the room, and finally halted in front of the wide window.

"Are you powered out?" Mojo asked, staring outside. The weather had changed. The sky was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. Snow whirled through the air, a thick, wide wall blocking the view. The storm was howling.

"Nah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Arek smiled, taking a deep breath. The faint headache would go away soon if he didn't overdo it now, which meant, if they find another way out beside fighting their way through a Cerberus army.

"I don't worry about you. I need you to do your job."

"Great, and for a moment I thought you were for once caring about a team mate. What the hell are you doing?!" He watched in alarm as Mojo returned to the desk and picked up the heavy office chair.

"Getting us out of here!" With that, he hurled the chair against the window. The glass didn't shatter, but a long crack shot across its surface.

"We can't jump down there! We'll break our necks!" But the turian ignored him, picked up the chair, and threw it a second time. The crack widened. Arek looked from the window to Mojo, and finally, to the coffee table standing by the couch. A broken neck, or being torn to pieces by Cerberus. Or taken prisoner, which sounded even less appealing. Well, helping Mojo was better than standing around and doing nothing. He hurried over to the table, kneeling down to grab it by one of its legs.

"You do not move an inch!"

Arek flinched when Mojo's threatening voice thundered into his ear. The turian suddenly stood by his side and shoved him away from the table, and lifted it himself. Arek was pushed off his balance the second time within the last minutes and fell onto the couch.

"You'll break our fall with one of your magic tricks! Use the time to recover for that!"

"A biotic sphere?! Mojo, I suck at those!" Arek shouted over the sound of the table banging against the window. "I'm trained for biotic attacks, not defence!"

"Take the chance to broaden your horizon." This time the table crashed through the glass. Mojo gave a laugh of triumph and strode back to Arek. It had become suspiciously quiet behind the office door. The attacks had stopped for the moment, and it was only a matter of time until reinforcements arrived, either in form of a hacker, or more plain force.

"That's suicide, Mojo!" Arek pushed himself closer against the back of the couch. "I can create a weak sphere for a second or two, enough for one person to soften a short fall or a light crash. But not for the two of us jumping from the upper floor of a building! I'll get us killed!" He tried to roll away, but Mojo seized him by his wrist and pulled Arek with him.

"Don't waste your breath. You can hold more than a dozen of Cerberus vermin at bay, but you want to tell me you can't focus on a stupid sphere when it counts? Pull yourself together and get ready!" They were standing in front of the window. Snow was blown inside, and the cold wind soothed the burn on Arek's legs. He stared outside, not daring to look down. Noveria had disappeared behind the snowstorm, if there was a wall in front of him, or rocks right beneath them to fall on if they took one step further, Arek wouldn't know.

Mojo's arm wrapped around him. So the turian was serious about this, and unless Arek attacked him, there was no way he could escape this crazy plan.

"Maybe if I create it as late as possible..." He glanced down, and all he saw was snow being hurled against the wall. He took a step back, but Mojo's firm grip held him back from retreating. "Fuck, when is as late as possible, I can't fucking see a fucking thing!" His arm slipped around Mojo's thin waist. _And you guys are so fucking slim... Please don't break to pieces, okay?_ He gave a jerk when he heard shouts coming from the foyer. Somebody meddled with the door. They were running out of time.

"Everything that doesn't kill us is good enough, Turner."

"And if it kills us?"

"Then we've lost nothing. Doubt those guys want to invite us over for tea. Hold tight and focus!" Without a further warning, Mojo jumped.

The cold hit Arek hard, pressing the air out of his lungs. He forced himself to breath, and to keep his eyes open. They were falling, and if they crashed, they wouldn't be able to soften the fall by rolling, unless they let go of each other. Yet, he was clinging to the turian, feeling the sharp hips and the plating of his armor pressing through his light suit.

He had no choice. Holding his breath, he focused on his mind. For his attacks, he had to gather the element zero energy inside of him and release it over his hand before its concentrated ripped him apart. Quick, short, and powerful, and equally quick to replenish. A protective sphere though...

In his mind, he wandered through his own body, wakening and drawing the dormant energy from his cells. He was shaking as the implant in his brain amplified the powerful eezo. He could release a weak field now, but it would dissolve within a second if he didn't take care to stabilize it.

He pushed the energy out of his body, his mind following, expanding the fragile sphere until he felt it was closing around him and the turian. His heart was beating against his ribcage, and his throat was dry as he struggled not only to keep the field up, but to enforce it.

It wasn't enough to let them float, but it kept them in the air for a short moment before it burst after touching the ground, shortening their fall to less than two meters instead of two or three floors.

They crashed into the snow, Arek landing on top of Mojo.

"Heavens, are you okay? Are you alive? Geez, please be alive!" Arek hurried to wipe the snow from Mojo's visor and started to pull at his helmet. A hand shot up and grabbed his wrist.

"Alive and kicking – you if you don't get off and let me get up!" Mojo growled, but Arek was certain to catch the sound of a subdued chuckle. Grinning, he rolled over and stood up, offering his hand. Mojo took it, and let Arek help him up.

"We really did it!" Laughing, Arek looked up. He couldn't see far enough to see the window from where they were standing. "I did it! Ha! Guess you could say I saved the day!" His laughter grew louder along with the storm in his skull. As he was staring upwards, the dancing snowflakes began to spin, whirling around in a hypnotizing vortex that threatened to engulf him.

"The day's not over," Mojo chuckled, catching Arek when he fainted. "But yeah, we're not dead. I'll mention that to our dear leader so she can praise you."

Cold. Cold, cold, cold. And why the hell was his alarm slapping and shaking him?

"Wake up, Turner!"

"You again," Arek groaned, huddling himself deeper into his mattress. "Thought about my suggestion?"

"I changed my mind. Keep sleeping." The shaking stopped. "Fucking storm. Can't see a thing," the voice grumbled, moving away from him.

"Storm?" Why should there be a storm in his bedroom, and who the hell had tempered with the thermostat? Arek opened his eyes, confused that he had slept with his mask on. Above him, there was nothing but snow falling down on him.

"Oh!" He sat up, brushing the snow off his arms. Everything was coming back to him. Their hike through the snow, breaking into the base. Cerberus attacking. The jump out of the window, the biotic sphere...

"Welcome back." Mojo stared through the scope of his rifle, then, with a sigh, he lowered the weapon and turned towards Arek. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thanks!" _Take this, Thea! Mojo asking me if I'm okay beats him thanking you!_

Although, 'okay' was still rather euphemistic. The good quality of his implants didn't save him from a migraine after releasing his complete eezo reserves. His body felt strangely empty, and although the tingling in his veins told him that his cells were already recovering, he would need a while longer before his biotics were back to their full power. A bit more rest, and his body would survive the intense use of them.

Yet, he was alive, nothing seemed broken, the pain in his legs was gone – cooled to the point of being numb.

"Unless you push us off a cliff as our next step, I guess we'll survive." He stretched his arms and his legs, and began kneading his hands to keep the blood circulating. "How long was I out cold?"

"Five minutes or so." Mojo was back on watch, trying his best to scan the area through his scope despite the snow. "Fuck this."

"I'm sorry, if I hadn't passed out we'd be out of here by now."

"Forget about it. With this weather, my omni-tool not fully functioning and a powerless biotic we wouldn't have gone far anyway." With a growl, he slid back behind the cover – an overground pipe transporting hot steam from the depths of the planet. "On the bright side, the weather should also make it difficult for them to find us."

"Hope so. Give me another minute or two, and I'll be fit enough to defend us when we make a run for it. Have you contacted the others?" Arek checked his own tool, expecting it to blink with an incoming call or message, but there was nothing.

"Tried to, but either mine isn't back to business, or the signal is jammed."

"Wouldn't surprise me, if not by Cerberus, then by the weather." Arek tried in vain to connect with their official and their private com channel. "What happened to your omni-tool this time? Damage from the fall?"

"No. I shocked the phantom you were cuddling with. Best way to lower their shields before shooting them. These fragile N7 omni-tools they give us infiltrators are damn useless. Melt too easily."

"Ah! Yeah, you saved my life back there! I haven't thanked you for that yet, right?" He laughed, blinking against the pain in his head. "You know, I slowly start to think that you aren't that bad after all." He closed his eyes and waited for his brain to calm down.

"Don't get any ideas. I needed a biotic to get out of that mess."

"You're really digging this hard-to-get-act, don't you?" _You are aware that this kind of behavior gets some people only more interested, aren't you?_

"I'm not acting anything."

"Come on, don't tell me you still dislike me that much." An assumption he wouldn't make if he wasn't sure about it. They were miles away from liking each other, Arek figured, but speaking for himself, he had to admit that Mojo was annoying. Irritating. More skilful than Arek had expected, and indeed interesting. In a train-wreck way, yes, but still interesting. 'Dislike' or 'hate' didn't cut it anymore, and if his insight into human nature didn't betray him – or was somewhat fitting for turians as well – then the change was mutual. _Someone_ only needed more time than others to sort it out.

"While we're at it," he continued, dissatisfied with Mojo's silence and determined to not drop the topic so fast, "I never got why the hell you disliked me that much in the first place!"

"This is hardly the time and place to discuss the magic of friendship, Turner." There it returned, the harsh sneer, the belittling tone. Arek failed to be impressed by Mojo's attitude this time, but had to admit, there was some truth to the words.

"Point taken. So, here's the deal. If we manage to get out of here alive, you'll explain it to me once we're back, patched up, and warm!" Fine, he didn't mind postponing the matter, but he wanted an answer, if not now, then later.

"If you insist," Mojo replied in a tone that might as well have meant 'if you think you'll survive', and shrugged.

"Should also give you enough time to think about my offer. I still think we should just fuck." He'd have paid money to see Mojo's face behind the helmet. He saw the changes in the turian's pose – the sudden tension, his hands fidgeting over the rifle he was still holding.

"Spirits, Turner, do you ever know when to stop it?" Mojo turned away, lifting the viper and studying the snowstorm through his scope.

"If you agree you could find out. But I warn you." He grinned behind his mask, shoving himself a bit closer to the turian. "Stamina is one of my many strong points."

"You... I... shut up. Just shut up, for the Spirits' sake!"

"I'm sorry. Don't think I'm desperate and trying to harass you. It's just... It's funny to break through your _cool_ for once." Arek laughed, and moved away from him, restoring the space between them.

"Hilarious." He raised his hand, cutting Arek's next remark off. "Did you hear that?"

"No?" He chocked down his laughter when Mojo didn't reply. He followed the turian's example and opened the scanner of his omni-tool, but all he received was distorted, grizzly noise, with the symbols jumping all over the place. He deactivated the scanner and listened.

From not too far away, he heard thunder rolling. No, not thunder, the dull thuds were too regular for that. Regular, heavy, and uncomfortably familiar.


	11. Baby, it's Cold Outside

"Don't tell me..."

"Atlas."

Another minute passed by, with the two men waiting in silence, listening to the slow stomps. The howling wind carried the noise all over the yard, making it difficult at first to tell from where the new threat was coming. Arek gave another try with his omni-tool, but the scanner was still useless, the com channels still dead. He hoped that Thea and Rani had found a safe spot to hide, and maybe they even succeeded to call the shuttle before all communication broke off.

He looked around, trying to understand their position. He wasn't sure how far Mojo had moved him after he had fainted, for all he knew they could still be right under the office with its now broken window, although he doubted that. Cerberus would have found them if they had remained too close to their improvised escape route. Talking about Cerberus, something was off anyway. He crouched closer to Mojo, and shouted against the storm,

"Isn't it odd that they have an atlas here? At a small research lab? And an army including dragoons and phantoms?"

"It's only odd if they weren't hiding anything. Which is good. I'm not a fan of jumping out of windows for nothing!" Mojo shouted back. "Fuck, it's coming closer!"

The stomps were getting louder, and Arek was certain that he caught voices coming along with the atlas. That thing wasn't alone, and if he and Mojo kept shouting, they'd give away their position to whoever was supporting it. If it was another phantom, or a dragoon, they were in trouble. Or rather, even bigger trouble than they already were. Mojo had made a similar conclusion – he grabbed Arek by his shoulder and pulled him closer, lowering his voice as much as the noise around them allowed.

"Do you have your gun?"

Arek reached to his back, but his fear was only confirmed when his hand closed around nothing.

"No. I lost in when the dragoon attacked me..."

"Excellent." There was something admirable about Mojo's talent to let one single word drip with that much sarcasm.

"I'm not a good shot anyway, and I'm almost back to my full strength. Don't worry, I can stand my ground here, Mojo." He would, somehow. Being blown to smithereens while being sliced and shot and who knew what else during a snowstorm wasn't the heroic death he had pictured for himself.

"Yeah, and faint a second time, and get us both killed when I have to pick you up before you suffocate with your face in the snow."

"You..." he began, but a third voice interrupted him.

"I think... over there... come..." The wind swallowed most of the words, but they had heard enough. Cerberus knew they were here, and they had only a few moments left to come up with a plan how to defend themselves. And more importantly, to get out of this mess.

"At least we're knowing now from where they're coming." Mojo turned, and knelt behind the cover, the viper resting on top of the pipe. "Still can't see anything," he muttered after another look through the scope. Arek stared at the white curtain wavering in front of him, but as he expected, he couldn't make out anything in the distance. With the thick snow, he was glad that he could see Mojo next to him. A few steps further away, and he might as well be alone.

"Listen, Turner. Do you think you can make one of your blue blasts, without killing yourself?"

"If you mean if I'm well enough to create and fire a shockwave, yes, no problem." He closed his eyes and focused, smiling when he felt the familiar energy resonate within his body. He hadn't fully recovered yet, and his head was still hurting. A longer combat could be tricky, but a few attacks shouldn't do any harm.

"Just tell me where and when, I can barely see my hand in this chaos."

"Just what I wanted to hear." Mojo checked the scope again, then he began typing on his omni-tool. "Activate yours."

"Hu, why?" He couldn't make any sense of what was going on in Mojo's head, and how their useless omni-tools related to his biotic powers, but suddenly, he registered an incoming message. Mojo's device asked for confirmation to transfer a package of files.

"Mojo, what exactly are you doing here?" A thought tried to take shape in his head, he just couldn't recognize it yet. Something was going on, and he feared he wouldn't like it.

"Now accept already, we don't have much time left."

"Not when I have no clue what's happening. Gimme the short version!"

"It's what I got from the Cerberus computer. Confirm already!" Mojo was shifting impatiently, growling at his screen.

"Okay..." He hit the button, watching the data transfer. It took only a few seconds, and he wasn't sure at what exactly he was looking, but it seemed a batch of a decent size. It made sense that not only one of them was in possession of their day's work, in case... just in case.

"Why do I have the feeling that this isn't just about a backup? Mojo, what the fuck are you doing?!" The second the transfer finished, Mojo began typing on his device, too fast for Arek's eyes to grasp what the symbols meant, but he new one thing – the alarm signal of the omni-tool, warning of a malfunction if whatever was happening wasn't interrupted immediately.

"Stop this!" He leaped at Mojo's arm and pulled his hand away from the tool. "Are you nuts? If you fry that thing again and we lose sight of each other when running through this storm there's no way to get back to you!"

"Spirits, Turner, get off!" Mojo shook his arm, pushed Arek with his free hand, but he didn't let go. "We're not losing sight of each other while running away, okay? Now let me finish this!"

"Yeah? And you're so sure of that why?" He'd bet money on his hunch that he wouldn't like whatever Mojo was about to explain.

"Because here's what we'll do. Once that thing's close enough, I'll shoot an electric impulse, and you'll detonate it with one of your magic tricks. That should keep them busy for a moment while you run."

"And you're going to stay here." Bull's eye _._ What the hell was wrong with this guy?! Did he really, for only one second, believe that Arek would flee and leave him behind as canon fodder for Cerberus?

"If you head that way," he pointed over Arek's shoulder, "You should sooner or later get to a wall. Climb it, walk around it, don't care. Just do it fast." Mojo was still struggling against Arek's grip, but he was clinging to the turian's arm with both hands now.

"You're kidding me." This was so absurd, it wasn't even worth shouting.

"I'll keep them busy here as long as I can, and you make sure that the data's recovered," Mojo ignored him, trying to pry Arek's fingers open and to slip away. "You should be strong enough to deal with a trooper or two on your way."

"Yeah, and you're getting shot here, or lost in the storm because even the shuttle won't be able to detect a melted omni-tool. I don't think so." If he had a hand free he'd punch him in the guts. He couldn't get behind it, what was this idiot thinking of him?

"Arek Turner, do you remember what happened the last time you didn't trust me?" Mojo yelled at him, but Arek didn't let this change of strategy impress him.

"Yes, and the last time I did trust you I was thrown out of a window and almost got both of us killed. And I swear, I'm gonna hit you for that low blow later!"

"Well, you're alive enough obviously to get on my nerves, you useless idiot!"

"Nice try, still not going to leave you behind, asshole mode or not. For once, we'll do what I say. Come!" Still clinging to the turian's arm, Arek jumped back to his feet. He needed most of his physical strength to move Mojo, who only reluctantly allowed Arek to pull him up.

"Instead of waiting we're gonna do what we should have done right away. Run!"

"That's the stupidest ideas of them all! Do you really have to hear it, fine!" He tried in vain to pull himself free from Arek.

"I'm too slow in this fucking snow! You're light, faster, and can defend yourself, while I cannot see a thing! That's why your chances to survive are better when you run while I do my best here! Satisfied?"

"Nope. You still owe me some answers, and I'll make sure I get them." Arek grinned behind his mask, let his hand glide down the turian's arm and closed his fingers tightly around his wrist. "Until then, enjoy the luxury of having your own seeing human. Let's get outta here! Or do I have to knock you out and carry you?"

"Yeah, like you could-"

"Then get moving already, you stubborn bastard!" To his relief, Mojo gave up his resistance. Arek ran into the direction Mojo had told him, pulling the turian after him. Not one second too soon – a rocket shot through the air, hitting the ground a few steps too far to the left from where they had been hiding. A shudder crept down Arek's spine. The second or third rocket would hit home, and if they had followed Mojo's plan it wouldn't have mattered anymore if his omni-tool was functioning or not.

He threw a look over his shoulder. Mojo was behind him, holding his rifle in his right hand. It wasn't easy for the turian with his slim legs and heavy armor to wade through the snow without stumbling. Arek, swift as he was, was struggling as well, but he refused to be defeated by the weather!

Cerberus wouldn't give up that easily. They couldn't hear the noise of the atlas' steps anymore, but more rockets were fired. Also, voices were shouting – if the troopers were leaving the atlas behind they could move faster. If they were used to the weather they would catch up with them, if phantoms were with them, then sooner than later.

Arek's foot hit against something hidden under the snow. He lost his balance and fell over, but a grip around his wrist caught him, and kept him on his feet. He nodded at the turian, feeling more of the old antipathy crumble when Mojo nodded back.

 _You aren't such a bad sort, are you?_ They were back on their track, the wind howling around them, pushing against their chests and throwing snow into their faces. Arek guided Mojo through the white hell, feeling the strong fingers clamped around his wrist.

Finally, the sight in front of him changed! They arrived at a wall, like Mojo had mentioned it before. Standing high and unimpressed by the storm it created a blind spot the snow couldn't reach. Arek pushed himself to a last sprint, dragging the turian after him. He reached out and touched the wall, laughing between his gasps for air.

"We're... not safe... yet..." Mojo stumbled against the wall, hitting it with his shoulder when Arek refused to let his hand free.

"I know. I'm trying to figure out where we are." Above them, the storm was unbroken. There was a ladder, but Arek wasn't sure if it was a sane idea to climb it when he couldn't tell what awaited them on top. They could walk along the wall, with no clue what expected them there. Standing still much longer was an equally bad decision. The muscles in Arek's upper legs were burning, but his lower legs were tingling where his blood was fighting against the cold. His feet, however, were numb. He tried to wiggle his toes, not sure if anything happened in his boots or if they were frozen off.

"How far down did we fall? Deeper than the ground level of the building?" He looked at Mojo. The turian was trembling, maybe from the strain of the run through the snow, maybe from the cold, probably both. Neither Mojo nor Meyrani had confirmed the rumor of turians being troubled by cold weather, but Arek already guessed that it was more than prejudice. If he felt bad and sore, it had to be twice as bad for the turian.

"Think so. If we climb this, we probably return to the level where we started. Good chances the main entrance is above us." Mojo was more hissing than speaking, and Arek heard his teeth chatter.

"Good sense of direction." If he hadn't passed out and been dragged around the place, maybe he'd be able to make sense of the area, but as it was, Arek was lost. As far as he was concerned, they could be standing anywhere on Noveria. Right now, he wished the ladder would lead right into the sun – he wouldn't hesitate the fraction of a second to climb it.

"What do you think is waiting for us up there?"

"Who knows. Nothing. Troopers. A turret. Another atlas."

"Yeah, exactly my thoughts." Arek stared at the ladder. He put a foot on the lowest rung, and took it back again. Anything could be up there, or nothing, because they were waiting around the corner. "What do we do now? Up there, or along the wall?"

"If you listened to me you'd have to decide on your own, too."

Arek watched him with concern. For once, he missed the sarcasm, or the plain rude tone. Mojo leaning with his head against a wall, sounding tired like he had just been woken up wasn't what he wanted to see and hear, not in this situation.

"Along the wall. Come. You can sleep later." Arek gave him a playful punch against the chest, and took a step back, pulling Mojo with him. The turian put one foot before the other, slowly setting himself in motion. He followed Arek without protest, adapting to the human's speed.

"Who's sleeping here..." Mojo regained a shadow of his attitude, and fell silent. Without another word, they walked on, with Arek listening if any of the Cerberus forces were catching up with them, or waiting for them behind a corner.

He blinked when he thought he saw something moving, but it was gone – or just his imagination. If it had been a shadow against the whiteness, then it had been too far away to spot them, he hoped. But he slowed down, shoving himself and Mojo closer against the wall.

"Wait. There is something!" Arek stopped, stumbling when Mojo walked into him. There _was_ a shadow, he hadn't been mistaken. It was moving slowly, but it was coming closer.

"Attacking, or playing dead..." He readied a shockwave. If he waited another moment the shadow should be close enough for his aim, but what then? The attack could attract others, and depending on the shadow's armor there was no guarantee that a single shockwave was enough to knock it out. If he waited he risked that the shadow saw them, and alarmed whoever was searching for them.

"Attack," the tired voice behind him whispered, and Arek launched the attack. The blue wave shot through the air, and disappeared.

"Missed I think. Dammit!" He kicked the snow and sighed. His arm was hurting, and his fingers were as numb as his feet, no wonder his aim was off. He would manage two or three more shockwaves, or a singularity, before he needed another rest. But the pain was still throbbing in his head, louder and brighter when he shot. His throat was dry, and his stomach growling. Resting five minutes or half an hour didn't make much of a difference – what he needed was a good meal and a few hours of undisturbed sleep before he was back to his full strength. The snow covering his feet seemed to drain his energy from his body, along with what warmth was remaining. He better avoided a physical fight, he'd be down before he threw a punch.

So back to biotics, while his powers lasted. He took a deep breath and waited for the next shockwave to form around his fingers. This time, he would let the shadow come as close as he dared, and fire square into its face. If he was luck he could loot a weapon or two. He hoped for a phantom, served them right if he relieved one of them of the silly sword.

"Arek?"

"What is it? Any new ideas?" He tilted his head back, but Mojo shrugged, shaking his own head.

"Didn't say anything."

"Arek! Mojo!"

No, that wasn't coming from behind him. Somebody in front of them was calling his name! Not only that – the blue glow illuminating the silhouette wasn't a trick of his imagination.

"Thea!" He fell into a jog, and was pulled back when Mojo behind him stumbled, taken by surprise by Arek's sudden movement. They both recovered their balance, and hurried towards the figure. The more they closed the distance, the more the figure took shape. The tall, buff asari emerged from the snowstorm, her armor glowing.

"By the Goddess, there you are! We thought we lost you! Are you okay?" She patted both of them on the shoulder, assuring herself that it was really them and that they were alive. Arek grinned. He'd give her a hug if he hadn't to make sure that Mojo didn't do anything stupid.

"Glad to see you're finally friends." Amalthea laughed, and pointed at Arek's hand – he was still holding the turian by his wrist. Mojo's fingers were hanging limply from his hand.

"I missed your optimism!" Arek followed his first impulse after all – he let go of Mojo, and fell around the asari's neck, giving her a hearty hug. "Guess you could say we made it out alive, but damn, I need a nap. What about you two? Where's Rani?" He looked over her shoulder, but there was no second shadow lurking behind her.

"We got out of the building in time. Meyrani contacted the shuttle before Cerberus jammed all communication. We made it back to the path we climbed up, and that's where she's waiting. I fear the cold is affecting her more than she admits."

"But she's okay?" He thought of her limping through the snow on their way up here, thanking all Gods available that she hadn't been with him and Mojo.

"She's fine. She won't admit that the whole ordeal and the cold had taken a toll on her injuries, but it's nothing a bit of rest won't cure. She's just exhausted."

"That makes three of us. I'm glad at least you're still in top form."

"I was lucky today, and free from previous injuries. Let's hurry back, the shuttle should arrive soon. I'd rather get there without bullets in our backs." She checked her weapon; her biotic aura flickered and diminished until it was hardly visible. It wouldn't offer much protection lowered that much, but it would also be more difficult for Cerberus to spot her through the snow.

"Same. Hey, did you hear? Time to get outta here!" He punched Mojo's chest when the turian remained standing still.

"Yeah, whatever." Mojo shrugged, and followed his squad mates.

"I told you, Arek, everything's good. You can stop asking. Where's the data?" Meyrani rolled up her eyes, still impatiently tapping on her omni-tool as she repeated her demand. Arek decided voicing his concerns wasn't worth risking her slicing his throat, and began to transfer the data package he had received from Mojo.

Despite only copying immaterial information he felt relieved from its burden. The young turian had brushed his questions off since they had climbed into the shuttle, eager to figure out if their side adventure had been worth the trouble. He left her alone with her omni-tool; obsessed as she set herself to work he had no place in her world anyway.

He stretched his arms and legs. The shuttle wasn't heated, but the engine produced enough warmth, and they were protected from the storm. His skin began to burn as the sensation in his upper legs returned. His toes, feet and lower legs were still numb. He turned his torso from the right to the left, flinching when the first thing he felt in his back was pain. His body needed a rest, better even, a rest after a massage.

He rubbed and kneaded his hands while answering Amalthea's questions, irritated that Mojo left all the talking to him.

"Sounds like the reason why we could slip away was that Cerberus had their eyes on you guys."

"For you, dear Thea, I'd jump out of a window right into the arms of an atlas any time. For Rani, too, of course!" He grinned, making a deep bow.

"Good to know, but don't make a habit of it." The asari grinned back. "I'm not sure if I'd have had been that confident of your biotics. I know you're powerful, but I also know the toll it takes to use a power you've never trained. Especially when under fire."

"Yeah, guess we were lucky that this dork is as ignorant about biotics as I'm about hacking, eh?" He kicked Mojo's leg, frowning when he didn't receive a response. Mojo had huddled himself into the corner of the bench, arms crossed in front of him. He was the only one still wearing his helmet, and his head was leaning against the wall to his left.

"You're getting me worried here. Mojo?" Arek shook him gently by his shoulder. Amalthea rose from her seat when the turian didn't answer, as worried as Arek. Meyrani looked up from her screen, following their leader's movement with her eyes.

"Mojo? This isn't a good time for a prank. Is everything all right?" The asari took him by his his shoulders, shaking him less careful than Arek before. The tall figure seemed to slump down under her rough handling.

"Take off his helmet!" Meyrani had jumped up, and shoved Amalthea aside. Her fingers moved along the edges of the helmet, found the security clips and unlatched them.

"Fuck! Rani, is he-" Arek stared in alarm at Mojo's closed eyes, clenching to the helmet that Meyrani shoved into his arms.

"He's hypothermic! Spirits, guess there's something wrong with his armor. Maybe a tear." Her hands moved along the turian's throat. Arek flinched when she suddenly slapped Mojo. "Wake up! You have to stay awake, do you hear me?" She hit him a second time, and all three of them sighed in relieve when he groaned and his eyelids fluttered.

"Is he in any real danger?" Amalthea inquired while sending a message to the Hamburg, alerting the medical staff.

"Not if he gets help quickly. Arek, help me with this!" She waved him over, and began to open the latches holding the chest plates of Mojo's armor together. "Our limbs are long and slim in proportion to the rest of our bodies, cold can cause some serious damage pretty fast if ignored. Help me getting him out of his armor and lying him down on the bench. You take care of his hands, I'm taking his legs. We need to keep his blood circulating!"


	12. Bedside Manners and a De-Frozen Turian

His legs were in pain. They were heavy, too heavy to move. His mind was too slow. Damn, he hated the cold, and now it got him for good. He had never wished himself back to Omega before, but compared to the damned snow and the storm, the memories were speaking of a paradise of lights and heat wavering through the pipelines and the streets. Mojo tried to move his arms, and felt his fingers twitch. There was warmth around him, and he wanted to get a hold of it before it slipped away. There also were voices. And the pain still wasn't gone from the side of his body.

"He's waking up. Mojo, can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes. A face was taking shape above him. A dark face, white, braided hair falling over the slim shoulder, and large, dark eyes that stared down at him.

"Yeah..." His vision grew stronger, the features of the face were taking shape. This was one of the doctors on board of the Hamburg. What was his name again, Wilson? Mojo remembered him, from the medical exam after he came on board. The dark eyes and dark complexion had reminded Mojo of his friend.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Not Noveria, or Omega. The ship?" He blinked when a bright light shone into his eyes.

"Good. Do you know your name?"

"That's none of your damn business." Finally, his arm followed his order. He brushed the doctor's hand away, but when he tried to sit up, the stinging pain kept him down.

"You guys can stop worrying. He's already back to his old self." The doctor turned around, waving for the others to come closer. Mojo groaned. Another one of those friendly chats was the last thing he was interested in now.

"His body temperature is back to normal." The doctor picked up a data pad, checking his notes, or updating them. "There was a scratch on his shoulder from a bullet. That was what damaged his armor and let the cold in. Not pretty, but no lasting damage done."

"Yeah, the cold is really a problem for turians, right?"

 _Spirits, that human!_ He should have known that he'd regret running back into the foyer to get this idiot out of there, while directing Cerberus' bullets to himself. Ungrateful idiot.

"After so many hours on Noveria, a damaged suit would have been a problem for everyone." So Meyrani was here as well, always ready to defend the honor of all turians that had ever breathed. "It took you some time to warm up as well, without malfunctioning protection," she continued berating Arek.

"Come on, Rani, can't you just admit for once that you guys don't deal well with cold weather?"

"No."

Bless the kid. Young as she was, and of course full with that pretentious pride for the turian race, at least she didn't let this little idiot get the better of her. If he didn't pay attention, he might actually start to like her. The chuckle died in his dry throat and turned into a cough. _Damn, that shit hurts!_

"Don't worry, lay still another hour, and the worst will be over." The doctor put a calming hand on his chest, stopping him from jerking up. Mojo lifted his head – some of the sick bay's machines had been shoved over his torso. So that was where the warmth was coming from. He was suspicious of strange devices he couldn't manipulate himself, and he wasn't comfortable with being forced to trust them, but he had to admit that he felt a lot better than when he had in the shuttle.

"You stubborn fool!" The asari had stepped beside him and glared down at him. "Almost frozen to death, cracked ribs, you might have told Arek that you were in trouble, you know? Or us once we were safe."

"Because of a chill and a few bruises?" He sneered in disgust. Cracked ribs though? So that had been responsible for the stinging. He hadn't thought anything of it as it stopped after a while, when he had begun to freeze to death. Yes, it was making sense in hindsight. Still, this was nothing to complain about. "Do I look like a whiny human?"

"Nope, but like an idiot who gave us a good scare when you passed out cold!" Amalthea snapped back, the darker tone of her voice hinting at her rising temper.

"No pun intended?" Arek chuckled behind her.

"Absolutely intended. Either way." Her expression softened. "Glad you're back with us. You did a good job, and thanks to you, we've got some sweet intel, and our biotic back in one piece." She turned back to Arek and put her arm around his shoulder, pulling him forward. "He told us that Cerberus would have killed him if you hadn't helped him out."

"And I told him already that I did so because I needed his skills to escape myself. Saving him was... a side effect."

"Sure." Her grin was unnerving, but the look of discomfort in Arek's face was comforting. The last thing he needed was them getting any ideas about finally taming him or making him a valuable member of their buddy club. However, it was good to hear that their troubles hadn't been in vain, and he preferred seeing that human alive over living with the choice of letting him be killed when it had been so easy to get both of them out of there.

"Give him a rest. You can exchange pleasantries later. I'll release him in an hour or two." The doctor shooed them away from the bed and dimmed the light above him. Mojo closed his eyes. The brightness had been tiring, and he still was sleepy. One or two hours of undisturbed sleep didn't sound bad, although he'd rather return to his own bed. But if he weighed in that the doc would make sure nobody bothered him, well, things could be worse.

"Mojo?"

"Turner." And – things got worse. This guy really was a pest, did he have to die to be left alone, or would this idiot find a way to travel into the realm of the death, if it was only to bother him? He thought he heard a distant voice laughing. He's growing on you, admit it. No, he wasn't! Shut up, Ibrahim, you're an idiot, his mind scolded his memory. To hell with the doctor, why did he have to remind him so much of his friend?

"I want to apologize. I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?" He opened his eyes, looking up at the pale face. The fine muscles under his face plates twitched. Human males looked funny when they didn't shave. With the red stubble, Turner looked even whiter than he already was. The dark circles under his eyes were another contrast. This guy needed sleep. Arek should take a nap instead of tearing on his nerves.

"Your ribs, it's my fault they're broken."

"Bullshit." _Don't get any dumb ideas, human. Don't you have enough things to brag about already?_

"No bullshit. Doc said they broke from blunt force taken to the chest, like, something heavy that tackled you, or, well, fell on top of you." Arek didn't have to specify what he was meaning. There had been only one impact to his body that was heavy enough to deal enough damage to break a bone or two, thanks to an bad angle.

"Must have been Cerberus." _Just go. Go away. I don't want to talk with you._

"Or a human adept whose pathetic biotic field burst a tad too soon. And who survived the crash with nothing but a few bruises because you broke his fall."

"You're ridiculous." What did he have to do to make him stop? He didn't want to hear more of this, or be turned into something in the human's eyes he wasn't, and that he didn't want to be.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'm not trying to get a nice word out of you. Just wanted to let you know I'm sorry. And thank you." Finally, Arek turned around and walked away. The door to the sick bay closed, and Mojo was alone with the dim lights and the mellow humming of the machines around him. He closed his eyes again and waited for sleep to take over before the doctor or anyone else with questions returned.

 _And he is growing on you after all. I know you, Mojo._

 _And I said he's not. I just can't stand watching others die when only a little effort would save them._

 _And yet, you-_

 _Spirits, shut up already. I don't need a ghost of the past picking on me. And once and for all, this asshole is not growing on me, he still stands for everything I despise, in case you have forgotten._

Although... there were things Turner had said, and had done, that didn't add up. Mojo had to admit before that he had misunderstood Arek's motivation, back on Omega.

Mojo sighed. He wanted to turn around. The pillows they used for male turian patients weren't comfortable. He wished he could change the position of his head, but every inched he moved was punished by the pain coming from his ribcage. Stupid human jerk, if Turner had left him behind as he had told him he wouldn't feel more than a slight sting, thanks to the numbness from the cold. Also, he would be dead, shot, or killed by his own ribs piercing through his organs.

 _Fuck all this._ Suddenly, one or two hours sounded like a long time.

"Ah, there you are! Didn't you get the call?" Meyrani caught up with him while he was on his way back to his quarter. Doctor Wilson had woken him up four hours after Mojo had finally fallen asleep.

 _"The bones are back in their place, and the breaks fixed. But take it easy, it will take two days until its fully hardened. No running, no fighting, no whatever caused it in the first place, understood? And keep yourself warm. You got some first and second degree frostbite on our feet, legs and shoulder. At any signs of infection or loss of feeling you'll come back here at once!"_

With that warning Mojo had been shooed out of the medical bay. Most of the pain was gone, unless he twisted his torso too quickly or moved too fast. He had regained full control over his legs, but the tingling in his feet and calves wouldn't go away, no matter how much he stretched or wiggled his toes. Well, even if it went against his principles, he'd for once not challenge the doctor's orders. Besides, he was still sleepy. A good meal wouldn't be the worst, and then, more sleep. First, however, he was looking forward to exchange the torn suit he had been wearing beneath his armor and the gown from the medical bay for comfortable pants and a sweater. He considered keeping the socks though. If anyone had asked him what the biggest achievement of humanity was, he'd have answered woolen socks.

"Nice dress, it flatters your hips." Meyrani chuckled, pulling at the white sleeve. "Sorry, one of us should have thought of bringing some of your clothes."

"I'm sure you were busy crawling through Cereberus' filthy secrets." They walked along the corridor together to their shared room. Mojo ignored the grins from the crew members they encountered. He didn't need to be a genius to guess what sight he offered, and that their opinion of him only added to the amusement. He wasn't angry about it, he'd have a good laugh as well if he was in their place, and one of all these idiots were walking through the ship in black tights, red socks and a white shirt that ended several inches above his knees.

"Found anything?" he asked when they stepped into the elevator.

"A few things, all interesting, but not all of them are related to our case. Well..." She flinched, twisting her fingers as she searched for the right words.

"Just spit it out. All this was for nothing, right?" He pointed at his outfit, still deciding if he wanted to laugh or to growl.

"Not at all. It's just not our case anymore, I'm afraid." She stared at the ceiling, sighing.

"What does that mean?" He already guessed the answer, there weren't many explanations for what could have happened since they had left Noveria.

"We got caught. Captain Crusher became suspicious," she confirmed his assumption. "The length of the mission, Cerberus running wild on Noveria, Arek turned into a shadow of himself because of exhaustion, your injuries... all that didn't match with his idea of a stealth mission. That we messed with the com channels didn't help either. Amalthea thought it was wiser to let the dog out of the box, as the humans say."

"Sure it's dogs?" A human had been his best friends over years, that had given Mojo his share of human idioms. There were too many for him to remember them all correctly.

"Don't know, isn't it always something about dogs with humans?"

"True. And what now?" he urged her on to continue the story.

"Now?" The elevator opened and they stepped outside, making room for two members from the navigator team. "Now Crusher is furious. He's been grilling Thea and Arek over the last hour. I joined them once the doc let me go, and was told to get you. If you replace 'told' with 'he shouted loud enough that I suspected you'd heard him yourself' you'll get the idea."

"Wonderful." To have the case, as Meyrani called it, taken away from him bothered him more than an angered captain. Especially human captains were nothing he feared. Some were good with words, like that Admiral Hackett, some were just loud. None of them were dangerous. He hadn't seen much of the captain since he had been on the ship, so it would be interesting to see what kind of preacher Crusher was.

Also, the prospect of an dishonorable discharge didn't scare him. If he was kicked out of the Alliance he'd return to his life as a freelancer, maybe back on Omega, or on another planet.

If that happened, fine, then he'd find a way to get his hand on Murakos by his own. However, he could imagine that Turner and the others felt differently about the matter.

"And yet you're chatting with the enemy instead of facing the consequences of our doings asap. Is one angry superior enough to shatter your bravery?" he couldn't resist teasing.

"First off, Mojo, you're a nuisance, not an enemy. You've proven that on Noveria for good, if you like it or not. And secondly, do you really want to face the Captain – and Arek – in this get-up?" She laughed as the door to their quarter slid open. "Get in and hurry, I'll wait here."

"Afraid you might like too much what you see?"

"Oh, yes. Turian jerk covered in frostbites, always a turn-on."


	13. Sacrifice of a Scapegoat Nobody wanted

Captain Crusher interrupted his rant when the door to the briefing room slid open. The two turians entered and waited when the door closed behind them. The captain gestured them to come closer, and pointed at the chairs standing at the wall. Mojo and Meyrani helped themselves with a chair, and pulled them up next to their two squad mates, forming a half circle in front of the captain. Amalthea and Arek were standing, and still in their armor. The asari's demure smile looked tired, and Arek seemed to need all his remaining strength to not lay down on the floor and take a nap. As neither of the two had reported any injuries and had looked fitter than the turians after their arrival, Captain Crusher had seen no reason to make things more pleasant for them than necessary. As a matter of irony, Amalthea and Arek now seemed more worn out and beaten than Mojo and Meyrani.

Mojo shifted his weight, removing the pressure from his injured ribs. So he hadn't only missed most of the heat thanks to their injuries, but was granted more comfort. Mojo had changed into loose pants and thick, dark red sweater. He had kept on the socks the doctor had given him, and was hiding them in casual boots, all clean, all free from tears. The situation began more to feel like an annoying meeting than a hearing, and all he had to do was breaking a few bones and freeze half to death, so, things could be worse. There were upsides to everything, if he squinted hard enough to see them.

"As glad as I am to see both of you back on your feet, do not think I'll give you a pass," the captain began, half-guessing what was going on in Mojo's mind. He was a man in his fifties, and hardly a fool. More than thirty years ago he had joined the Alliance, and his eyes had the look of a soldier who had served twice that time. Silver streaks had taken over most of his black hair and beard. He wore the scars and wrinkles of a man who had lived through his share of battles. Rumor had it he lost a finger on his right hand on board of the first Normandy – before it had been finished. He had been considered as a possible captain, but an explosion in the engine room during his inspection cost him the finger and the commando over the ship, thanks to superstition. Aware that if he ever went down in history that this unfortunate incident would outshine his military achievements, Crusher would make sure that he didn't offer the historians more stories to ridicule him.

"To sum up what I heard from these two, the following happened without my knowledge: One of you hacked into Omega's security channels." Crusher was standing still with a straight back, his hands behind his back; his cold eyes wandered slowly from one face to the either, seizing each of the four up. "You got involved with the Kabale incident, but couldn't prevent what happened. Yet you were close enough to identify the killer. One of you possessed enough information about him to put yourselves on his trail. Next, you hacked into our system, manipulated the schedule and allotment for missions. Half of you ignored the orders – Turner and you, Mojo. You set out on a mission of your own. One almost got killed, the other is beyond exhausted, and both were almost lost in a snowstorm. As a side effect, you alerted Cerberus to our presence when all you had to do was to break in, copy the goods, and sneak out. Do you confirm the story?"

"Yes," Meyrani answered shortly, and Mojo nodded. The captain's glare fixed on him. Mojo assumed he had done most of the math, and that he had also decided on who to put the blame on.

"I read over the information you've gathered before Noveria. Tolen Murakos is notorious for his involvement with Omega's organized crime, isn't that right, Mojo." The captain didn't ask, he stated, leading the conversation into the direction Mojo had expected. He didn't change his lax pose, a part of him regretting that his lack of a respectful posture could so easily be excuse with his injuries.

"And as I worked on Omega for a few years I'd of course know him when I see him," Mojo finished Crusher's unspoken conclusion. "If you want to ask if I was the one who recognized him and insisted on investigating, the answer is yes." Mojo stretched his legs and crossed his arms, not breaking eye contact with the captain. "And I'm sure you've already been informed that I blew the operation and didn't take him out when I could." He shot a triumphant glare at Arek.

 _I'm not an idiot, I know how these games are played_ . _You fools are too easy to read._ He felt confirmed when the human's pale skin changed into a bright red, and turned back to Crusher, awaiting the sentence. Should they kick him out, he didn't care. As long as he didn't have to leave the ship while still in Noveria's orbit.

"Finally somebody gives me some details, and names." A grim smile darkened the captain's face. He crossed his hands behind his back and started to walk up and down in front of them. "You're mistaken, Mojo. Whatever I tried, Mr. Turner insisted on taking the blame as a group, and Miss T'Koss insisted that she, as the leader, has to accept full responsibility on the squad's behalf. Thank you, Mojo, for bringing some light into this mess."

Mojo forgot to breathe for a few seconds. Just great, now he owed the human an apology. That Turner wouldn't have hesitated a second to push any guilt away from himself, and shift it to him – he would have bet his pay on it. All of them were like this after all, weren't they? Well, that gave him something to think about later, now he had to deal with the consequences of ratting himself out to the captain.

Crusher turned his back to the squad and directed his attention to the screen in front of him. He opened a file, minimizing it so only he could read. Mojo had caught a glimpse of the top of the document – his name was written down there, it was the personal file about him.

"When the Armiger Legion answered our call for support by sending you, we expected an elite infiltrator. General Karrades even added a note, warmly recommending you as a unique asset to our forces. Unique. Can't say he lied." He browsed through the pages.

"I requested more information about you after your first week. Something more than 'excellent sniper', 'outstanding infiltrator', 'surprisingly well developed hacking skills'. How about 'overbearing', 'constant display of insubordination', 'lack of proper respect towards all ranks'? Or 'origins and past career unknown. Joined on recommendation through a turian General named Hesaurus. First registered connection under the name Mojo: Eclipse, Omega, eight years ago.'. Nothing known before that. Does that sound familiar?" He closed the file and faced Mojo with a stern, merciless glare.

"It sure does, doesn't it?"

"I doubt that grinning is an appropriate reaction, Mojo." Crusher's face remained unchanged, with no hint of anger or amusement at the blatant provocation. "But it fits the picture. I'm sad to say, I fear your superior was taking our plea for help as an opportunity to get rid off you, and we fell for it. Your stunts were a disgrace to my ship before, but I decided to give you a chance, for the sake of your squad mates, and because I thought you were finally settling in after your return from Omega. Instead, I'm afraid, you've become a bad influence. I don't know why you spied on Omega's security, or how you hacked into our computers, but that your doings got innocent civilians killed is enough for me. I can't have you drag down three good soldiers. You'll leave my ship as soon as your injuries have healed. Until then, you'll be confined to the med bay."

"Good." _Surprise, surprise._ So some things went as he expected, that he could still trust his instincts was comforting. It didn't matter. Three days, give or take, and he'd be after Murakos on his own. That should keep him occupied during the destruction of the galaxy. He wouldn't allow any reaper to snuff him out before he had delivered the promised shot between Murakos' eyes.

"Good? Nothing's good!"

Four heads jerked towards Arek. He had sprung between Crusher and Mojo. The sudden rush of energy blotched his face red, and for a moment, his tiredness was forgotten.

"Mister Turner, if you have anything to add, do it quickly. I'd like to put the whole matter to an end." Crusher's low voice warned him to not waste his time.

"It's not right. Sure, he is an ass, stubborn, and a damn rude idiot, but what happened on Omega was my fault," Arek hurried to explain, ignoring the indignant grunt behind him.

Crusher sighed, pulling up one of the chairs, and sitting down the first time in more than three hours.

"Elaborate, please." With the edge vanished from his tone, the captain sounded as tired as the Arek had looked a few seconds ago. This was an unforeseen turn of events, and while Mojo was surprised by Arek's protest, he still had to debate with himself if Crusher was just in his decision to listen, or a pushover.

"If I hadn't stopped him – because of unwarranted distrust – he would have saved the family with one shot." Arek kept it short and to the point, waiting for the captain to demand more detail.

"That's it?"

"No." Arek glanced into Meyrani's direction, but she had already rose from her chair. "He didn't hack into Omega's systems, and it wasn't his idea for us to interfere with the hostage situation."

"With all due respect, Captain Crusher, Arek is correct." Meyrani stepped forward, surprising the captain and her squad mates alike with the hint of pride in her voice. "I started everything by spying on Omega's security forces. I decided on my own accord to bypass their security systems, and to filter their transmissions for anything of use for us. Once I shared with the squad what I had learned, Mojo added valuable information of course, due to his knowledge of Omega, and also provided his skills from that point on. But he couldn't have hacked into the ship's system. I can, and I did."

"Miss Avilius! Are you telling me you are proud of breaking the rules?!"

"I'm telling you I'm proud of possessing the necessary skills. I cannot allow Mojo to be the only one to be hold responsible for the happenings if that means that my work is overlooked."

 _Not bad kid, not bad at all._ Mojo nodded in appreciation. He was willing to acknowledge her knowledge and skills without hesitation, and being proud of that was something he could get behind. No, this girl wasn't a snob, as she had proved more than once lately, and while it stung, he had to admit that not only her knowledge was admirable, but also her calm composure, especially in a situation like this.

"And I was aware of their plans and their doings." Amalthea straightened her back, facing the captain with her chin lifted and her jaws set in a determined manner. "I encouraged them on Omega, and planned the mission on Noveria with them. As I said before, as the leader of the squad, I take full responsibility. I also like to add," she looked at Mojo, a grin appearing on her serious face,"The questionable nature of our actions aside, Mojo had proven himself to be a valuable addition to the squad. I'm not in the position to judge his personality. However, when his skills were needed, he provided. As for me, I told him what to do based on Miss Avilius' suggestions, and he followed, adding to the work of the team. That cannot undo his actions of the past, of course. But with all due respect, I'd like to ask you to take my words into account when you make your final decision."

 _Spoken like a leader. Smart move, acting like he hadn_ _'t spoken the last word yet. Guess now I have to thank you, too._ They could have made things a lot easier for them, by remaining silent, yet they decided to tell the truth. Mojo doubted that any of them had a desire to shield him from trouble, but as a consequence, he had to appreciate their sense of fairness which made them tell the truth, although it meant trouble for them. Or maybe it was foolishness - the result would decide about that at the end of the day.

"Wish I had anything cool to add." Arek shrugged, giving Amalthea and Meyrani an admiring look. "All I can say is this – if I hadn't made a capital mistake on Omega he'd have been the hero of the day and nobody care how we got there. And if it weren't for him, Cerberus would have killed me. I'd be dead now. Guess that's my part of the story so far, being the fool and the damsel in distress."

"Spirits, nobody likes people who're fishing for compliments, Turner," Mojo groaned, staring at the ceiling. "You can tell them yourself that you stood alone against an army of Cerberus goons, and that we only got out there alive because you almost got yourself killed with your damn magic."

"Goons that were an inch away from slicing me to bite-sized pieces, and my damn magic that I'd never have tried to use that way if _somebody_ hadn't encouraged me," Arek shot back with a smirk.

"How often do I have to tell you that I didn't want to save or encourage you, but that I only needed you to get out of there alive?"

"By the Goddess, you two, get a room already." Amalthea sighed while Meyrani commented the exchange with a low chuckle.

Mojo shut his mouth, turning his head away, his mandibles twitching. _Not you, too. Spirits, Turner, stop grinning! Forget what I thought before. You_ _'re Idiots! All of you!_ It was a blessing that the plates covering his face saved him from blushing.

Captain Crusher's face was twitching, and the hard look in his eyes was softened by reluctant amusement. He had worked with humans and aliens of different calibers for many years, and he had been lucky that his experiences led to the development of a subtle sense of humor instead of bitterness.

"So you're telling me, if I want to make a just decision, I have to fire all of you. Don't think that what you've done is less serious just because you all were involved in it. If anything, that makes things worse, because none of you, four experienced soldiers, thought it necessary to do the right thing and report what you know to me." He returned to the large screen. After touching a few buttons the galaxy map appeared. They all looked at the familiar nebulas that formed the milky way. Some of them were colored in a red light – reported sightings of reapers in one or more of the solar systems.

"If the four of you only worked together as a team, on missions that need soldiers with your skills and your wit. Are you aware what's awaiting us? Why the galaxy needs us? Why those who lack in skill, wit, and military expertise need us? And here we are." He closed the map, staring at the black screen. "I'm scolding you, like a group of children that had been caught smoking."

The four of them were looking at his back. Amalthea muttered an apology, Arek and Meyrani lowered their heads, gazing at the floor.

Reapers. Mojo's company had fought through a horde of cannibals and husks before the Armiger Legion admitted him to the Alliance. That had been the only time he had seen one of the minor threats of the invasion that was slowly passing the threshold to the galaxy. He had seen recordings of reapers only on the news. They seemed so far away, abstract and surreal. Yet, chasing after one murderer felt unimportant, and he hated that. If he didn't get him, the reapers would. They would get all of them, good, evil, in between. But, if one fight didn't matter, which did?

"Mojo, I apologize for my wrong judgment of your character and your involvement. The discharge is canceled. And if I keep you, I have to keep all of you, I guess." Crusher turned around, smiling. "So you guys can work as a team if you want. Do that for us in the future, instead behind my back. I'll let you know when I've decided on what to do about that Murakos case later. You can go now."

"Thank you, sir!" Amalthea saluted, struggling to contain her relief. Meyrani paid a respectful nod, while Arek didn't try to hide his feelings about the outcome. He grinned all over his face, looking from one squad mate to the other. Mojo pushed himself up from his chair. His bruised back had stiffened from sitting in the same position for a longer time, and he had forgotten about his ribs. Pain shooting through his body reminded him quickly of his condition. The sooner he got more rest the better. Whatever he might have to say against working on an Alliance ship – the accommodations and medical facilities were excellent, beating what he was used to from Omega and the turian military.

"Thanks," he heard himself mutter.

"Don't thank me. Thank the reapers. In any other war, your military careers would have ended today."


	14. Good Night, Sleep Tight, But First

They didn't say a word after they left the briefing room. They had to walk through the war and communication room on their way back to the elevator. The positions were sparely filled, the night cycle was coming to an end and the early shift would soon take over. The few crew members present glanced at them and whispered as they walked by, but nobody talked to them or dared to ask questions. A look at their battered condition, and the fact that they had been summoned by the captain himself alone offered enough room for speculations, and none of them spoke of an easy day for the squad.

"I'm sorry that we hadn't been open with Crusher before you came, Mojo." Amalthea had waited until they were back in the corridor, where nobody could overhear them easily. "Arek and I agreed that we wouldn't mention names without you and Meyrani present. I didn't expect him to single you out like that."

"Wouldn't have blamed you if you did. That was your chance to get me kicked out of your happy circle".

"That it was. How about not making us regret that we didn't take the opportunity?" The asari stopped at the intersection that parted the corridor – one way led to the elevator, the other to the bridge. She placed herself in front of Mojo, raising her hand to stop him from walking on.

"Listen. We didn't do too bad on Noveria. You and Arek didn't, and that already started on Omega. We ran out of luck when Cerberus showed up, that's all. And even then you two did a good job. I don't think we'll all be best friends at the end of the day, but dammit, Mojo. We just started to work as a team, and I think we could really be a damn good squad if we gave each other a last chance and get used to each other."

"Nice speech. Do you really believe what you're preaching?"

"Yes." She met his stare without flinching or blinking. Mojo noticed her calm expression, with only a hint of a frown. Her face mirrored the stubborn streak of her personality, but was free from hostility. She neither blushed nor did a muscle in her face or body twitch. If she was lying, she was doing a damn good job. He had seen and heard enough of her and her temper since he had been teamed up with her - Amalthea valued good work, success, and preferred a direct approach over sly and underhand ways. There existed worse characters, that were far more unpleasant to have around, and to work with. In spite of his own stubborness, Mojo began to believe her

"Fine, whatever." He shrugged, and headed towards the elevator, the rest of the group following him.

"I think he wants to say 'Good to hear, I'll take you by your word'. If you don't mind me translating, Mojo." Meyrani limped by his side, smirking at him.

"You got quite daring, kiddo. Or are you flirting with me?" They arrived at the elevator, and walked in. Mojo hit the button that would bring them to the floor with the crew quarters, the others didn't object. He glanced at the faces around him. All three of them looked tired and worn out. Arek seemed to be about to fall asleep while standing – he leaned against the wall, arms and legs crossed, eyes half closed. To see him not being in the mood for banter was rare, and refreshing. Although a bit boring, he had at least expected a shocked gasp, maybe even an attempt to jump to Meyrani's help and defend her honor.

"As flirting means I'd have to put up with your personality – no. Sorry, Mojo." She gave a laugh, while Arek and Amalthea looked at her in mild confusion.

"Is there something going on between you guys? Weren't you about to gut each other only a few days ago?" Amusing, how the asari asked the same questions like the human. Mojo smirked, leaving the answer to the female turian – if Meyrani didn't feel like explaining, good. Should they rack their brains over that riddle.

"We were, and it cleared the air. Sometimes you have to make it clear that you're meaning business, and won't let another mistake slide," Meyrani explained, stepping outside the elevator once it halted and opened.

"Kinda like a turian ritual for demanding respect?" Arek stifling a yawn that threatened to let his curiosity looked like boredom.

"Yes. And it isn't a hollow phrase or gesture. If one of us oversteps the other's boundaries again, there will be blood. All right, I'll leave here." Meyrani stopped at the next intersection. "If I had to, I'd stay true to my word, of course. But I'm glad I don't. Two functioning turians are better than one functioning, and one dead. Anyone of you want to come with me to the mess? I'm starving." The change of topic came too abruptly for Arek and Amalthea to ask any more questions, and Mojo had nothing he wanted to add himself. He had been impressed when Meyrani, who was more a girl than a woman in his eyes, had threatened him. She had also proven herself as smart and tough; he had been in the wrong when he judged her as spoiled and whiny because of her origin, age and girlish appearance. He didn't need to provoke a ritual fight to see her as acceptable anymore to acknowledge that much.

"Not today, Rani. I hear my bed calling," Arek said with a tired smile.

"And I need to get out of this thing, and a shower." Amalthea stretched, and tried to loosen the collar of her armor. "I'll come afterwards, and join you if you're still there."

"If you come, I'll have a cup of tea and wait for you. Mojo?"

"Bed."

The two women left, one heading for the shower room, the other for the mess. Mojo continued his way to his quarters, Arek was on his heels. They reached the door to the human's shared quarters, and Mojo walked on.

"Wait."

He stopped, turning around.

"When I said 'bed' I meant _my_ bed," he snarled at Arek, who responded with a grin.

"Good one. No, it's not that. I'll leave it to you to agree to my idea, so don't worry, I won't harass you into anything."

"Like you could." If Arek thought a somewhat handsome face and one of his smiles he liked to throw around would be enough to get him interested he was mistaken. "What do you want?"

"You owe me an answer." Persistent human. Mojo remembered their talk on Noveria, and he wasn't delusional enough to hope that Arek had forgotten about it. Too bad for the human, Mojo didn't feel like talking now, and less like apologizing.

"Later. I'm tired. And you should sleep, too." There would always be a reason for another later, and it was only a matter of time until Arek would finally give up and leave him alone. What did he plan to achieve anyway? He had saved the human's ass, they had worked together, they were still in the same squad and yes, Mojo had decided that it was wiser to play along during the missions. While he saw no reason to admit it aloud, his defiance had been childish. Old habits died hard, bad habits died harder. He'd correct his mistakes. What else did this guy want from him?

"You'll always find a later. No, Mojo, and if you worry about my sleep, you better spit it out, or I spent the next hours wide awake, brooding over why the hell you hate me that much."

 _Are biotics now able to read minds?! Yo, human. You 're small, pathetic, and your hair's weird, and that it's a kinda nice color doesn't help. And shave, by the Spirits! Besides, I wish I let the phantom kill you!_ He watched Arek's face for a moment for any change, but he only looked back at him with unchanged, determined curiosity. _Okay, I don't wish that it killed you. Better? Anything? Of course not._

There was something about biotics that made him paranoid sometimes, and he almost laughed at his own silly notion. If Arek could read minds, he wouldn't have to pester him with so many annoying questions. So, all what there was left to do was to find the words to explain them.

"Nobody likes the popular kid," he said, and, as though that explained it all, he turned back to his way to his quarter. He should have thought that Arek wouldn't let him get away that easily.

"What the hell, that doesn't even make sense! It's a contradiction of the very meaning of popular!" He hurried to catch up with Mojo, walking next to him, glaring up at him with a frown. Mojo opened his mouth, but clenched his jaws together, processing Arek's words.

"Damn, you're right!" he suddenly burst out, laughing. "Too bad, and I thought it was a good slogan."

"A slogan for what?!"

"Labelling guys like you. But I guess that's still not enough for you? Why am I not surprised." He chuckled when Arek rushed past him and planted himself into Mojo's way, his eyes glowing with blue biotic energy, his lips tightly pressed together.

"Fine, let me try again." His tired mind wandered further back than he wished. He had met guys like Arek Turner before, and he had never enjoyed it. But the first time still stung the most, he refused to remember more about it.

"I know your kind. Not humanity, I mean guys like you. Always smiling, always playing best friend with everyone. Greedy, and never satisfied unless everybody falls to their feet and applauds as soon as you grace a room with your presence." He was getting carried away as he spoke, clear words slurred into a sneer, his head tilted back, and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. His hand made a dismissive wave towards Arek.

"What the fuck, that's bullshit! Yes, I like it when others like me, but I don't want any standing ovations!" Color shot into Arek's face, his clenched fists were shaking. The biotic glow vanished, leaving an odd mix of anger and sadness in the human's eyes. Smiles could be faked, the sweet and friendly tone of a voice could be faked, as could gestures and, to a degree, body languages. Eyes were the only betrayers, in every face of every species. Mojo was forced to make his decision - either to pretend he didn't see it so he could hold on to his truth, or to admit that this truths had been cracking over the last days, and was about to shatter. If only - if he only had had more time, a few more nights to sleep over all this. More time to get used to the idea that things were different than he had thought, that would have made things so much easier.

"You don't? Sure? And next you're telling me you also don't put up that 'Oh, I'm so fun and nice, nobody will ever suspect me of being an asshole'-act to hide your true nature, and that you're not the kind of guy that wouldn't hesitate to stab everyone around you in the back when it benefits you?" He bent towards Arek, glaring into his eyes, and poked the human's chest.

"Of course not!" Arek called out in desperation and slapped Mojo's hand away, his face whiter than before. The spark of anger was gone from his eyes. For a moment, he looked year older. "I... I can't believe you think that I'd do anything like that. I haven't done or said anything to deserve that, have I? Yeah, I was rude to you, because you pissed me off! But I'm nothing, NOTHING, like what you said! You hear me? That's not me at all!"

"I know..." That was still easier than saying he was sorry. Mojo sighed, rubbing his neck and staring at the wall next to him. "I know," he repeated, taking another deep breath. "Omega, then on Noveria... now with the captain... if I had been right, you'd... I'd have been kicked out of this ship after Omega, or died on Noveria before Crusher could have discharged me."

"So... you're changing your mind? Are you saying that you know that you're wrong? Come on, Mojo, Rani isn't here to translate! This would be a good time for your usual, direct way." He had begun to yell, but quickly lowered his voice. The corridor was still empty, but so close before the end of a shirt it was only a matter of time before the doors opened - if their argument didn't attract curious onlookers anyway.

"Honest mistake on my side. I'm... not always right." The door to his quarter was so close, only a few steps and he could escape from this whole unpleasant conversation. However, he didn't suffer in vain - the tension fell from Arek and there it was again, that smile that Arek so often wore that Mojo still found it difficult to believe it was always real.

"I'll take that as a sorry. But it's really not something nice to hear, or to know that you thought about me like that all this time, when it's far from true. You really owe me, you know? How about a drink, later, when we had some sleep?"

Mojo recognized the metaphorical olive branch he was offered, and took - less metaphorical - a step back.

"Don't misunderstand me, Turner. I was wrong about you being an asshole in disguise, yes. But I didn't say anything about becoming friends. I still don't have much use for bubbly guys like you. You never stop talking, laughing, throwing yourself at others, jumping from conversation to conversation – so damn tiring."

"Oh. You _really_ prefer being the dark, brooding loner, don't you?" Arek sounded so surprised as though he had just made a mind-altering discovery, that Mojo had to bite his own tongue, or he would have laughed out loudly.

"I prefer being in places where I can hear myself think." Like on the roofs of Omega, above the noise, the corruption and the filth. From where he could watch the world unfold in front of his eyes without having to be a part of it, unless he chose otherwise. The beautiful sight, the lights and the colors were a welcome bonus. He missed a place like that on the cruiser.

"But not necessarily alone, yes?"

"Yes." He missed Kader, too, that damn son of a bitch. He hoped he was dead, served him right, after leaving Omega and breaking off all contact after a few emails; being dead would be an acceptable excuse. No, of course Mojo hoped he was all right, but if he was, damn, then he would break every single bone of that bastard. Best friend, sure.

"Try to contact him, or find out if he's dead, if it bothers you that much. Which it does."

"What?" Mojo was pulled back to reality, needing a second to remember that he was standing in the corridor, a door between him and his bed, and a too curious human blocking his way. "You don't read minds, do you?" _Haha, very funny!_ He growled lowly in the back of his throat when Arek laughed.

"Nah, don't worry. Just an educated guess." He grinned, tilting his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It was written all over your face that you were dwelling on the past, the rest was putting one and one together. And maybe," Arek added with a chuckle, "I'm learning to read turian expressions after all."

"About time." Yes, he knew it was unfair to demand from humans, or most non-turian races, to learn about the subtle changes of a turian's face as quickly as turians learned to understand the body languages of humans. Especially humans like this Arek Turner were so easy to read, it was fun. He might as well announce his emotions, like an elcor. Now, that would really be amusing. Anyway, as wrong as he might have been about certain aspects about Arek's character – he was still right about one thing. Arek was shallow in more than one regard, and seemed to see it as a joke that he didn't bother to pay closer attention to the turians around him, even if he enjoyed their presence, like Meyrani's.

"Yeah, I know. Not my strongest virtue, but I'll try to better myself. For Rani, and if it helps you and me to get somewhat along, the better. Come on, Mojo, give me a chance. We can also have a drink in the mess, it's less crowded and noisy there." Arek was stubborn in his desire to relax the negative tension between them, Mojo had to give him credit for that. He began to fear that he had to prove Arek that he really wasn't the kind of company he hoped for to get rid off him.

"Mojo! Oh, and Arek, too! What a surprise, to see the two of you chatting so amiably." Neither Arek nor Mojo had heard the drell arrive. Barat nodded at the turian, and greeted Arek with an elegant bow. He reached for the human's hand, but Arek crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Hello, Barat, nice to see you." Arek's monotonous reply caught Mojo's attention. Strange, for somebody who behaved like everyone was his best friend, and probably hopped into bed with at least half of them.

"The pleasure is on my side. Had I know you were already back from Noveria I would have reminded you that you still owe me."

"What do I owe you?" Arek took a step back, a lost expression on his face.

"To accept my invitation for dinner. I apologize, I did not wish to confuse you. Forgive me my harmless joke." Barat gave a gentle laugh that almost convinced Mojo, if he didn't know him better. The drell was fun to talk to once in a while; there weren't many snipers on the ship, and Barat was one of the more skilled ones he had known. That made it enjoyable to exchange knowledge about rifles or to brag about their kills, but beyond that – unpleasant. Barat hadn't given him any reason, but there was something about him Mojo didn't trust, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't a secret that the drell appreciated, well, certain superficial aspects about Turner, and he had mentioned that he planned to step up his game to charm the human. Arek didn't seem to all too excited about that, quite the opposite - he looked rather unsettled. Mojo could understand that, even if he couldn't explain why. Somehow, he guessed that 'because he's an asshole' wasn't a reason for Arek to avoid somebody. It hadn't, after all, worked for Mojo to keep Arek away.

Well, he had to acknowledge that Arek seemed to have at least a few standards, and he couldn't deny the hint of glee he felt.

 _Too bad he doesn't care for your advances. Why don't you make a guess who he did offer to have sex with._ That, though, didn't change anything about what he thought about the idea.

"Well, it's okay. I'm sorry, I'm just tired today. Let's think about dinner another time, okay?" Arek had found his speech, and the smile in his face looked almost convincing. Mojo was almost sorry for him, he assumed that the later-until-it's-forgotten-strategy wouldn't work well with Barat either.

"Time for me to go to bed. I'm glad things turned out well, Mojo. Let's talk later, yes?" Are grinned at the turian, and, finally, gave the way to the door free.

"Sure," Mojo heard himself reply, groaning at himself. Talking without thinking wasn't a habit he wished to develop. He touched the lock and the door slid open.

"Hm, maybe I should take my chances and go after him. His hips lack the usual swing, a massage should help with that." Barat chuckled after he followed Mojo inside.

"Let him be, he had a hard day." _And he's not the only one._ He opened his locker and chose a shirt with short sleeves. The chill wasn't gone from his bones yet, but a comfortable warmth filled the well-heated room and the Alliance had provided races who preferred a warmer climate, like turians and drell, with thick duvets. Wearing a sweater when he went to bed wasn't necessary.

"You worry about him? You?! About Arek Turner? Did I hear that right, Mojo?" Barat shoved himself between Mojo and his locker. The turian ignored him – he steeped away and pulled the sweater over his head.

"Oh dear, those are some nasty frostbites on your arms. And is that a bullet wound? And your ribs! Not your lucky day, huh?" The drell followed him, pressing his slightly moist fingertip on the bandage covering Mojo's shoulder.

"You have no idea how lucky." _And I'm not going to tell you. Spirits, I swear! If he doesn't fuck off I'll drown him in the kitchen sink at the earliest opportunity!_ He regretted that he had ever agreed on sharing a drink or two with Barat. He was the kind of guy Mojo only endured under specific circumstances, and being exhausted and hurting wasn't one of those.

"Really? Sounds like a good story to tell. Share it with me over a drink! Later, of course." Barak chuckled, moving over to his own locker and opening it. He took out his rifle, a widow. Nice looking weapon, sweet damage, but too heavy for Mojo's taste, and too slow. Why taking out one target and reload if he could take out up to six targets in the meantime? Barat still doubted that Mojo could do that, but the turian assumed that he would also refuse to believe it if he saw it with his own eyes. The drell only enjoyed Mojo's company because he was convinced to be the better sniper, Mojo was aware of that. If he took that guy serious it would anger him. As it was, to him, this drell was a clown, a pretender, with his big stories and fancy way to talk.

If he had to choose his company for 24 hours, he would prefer his other room mate, the second drell that Arek liked to hang out with so often. That chatterbox and gossip would drive him insane within minutes, but at least that guy didn't put up any airs and graces. Simple and annoying over fake, pretentious and annoying anytime.

"Maybe." He tossed the sweater into his locker and closed the door before it fell out again. Barat gave a woeful sigh, polishing the barrel of his widow with the sleeve of his coat.

"My second rejection in less than 10 minutes. Although Arek's hurt my tender heart more. Say, Mojo, do I have to regard you as my rival? You are aware that I fancy the human." The sweet, amused gentleness was gone from the drell's voice, leaving it harsh and creaking. "I do not value competition in such a matter. If you want to challenge me, keep to headshots and stories from the battlefield."

Mojo found himself caught between the temptation to strangle Barat, or to shove Arek's suggestion into his face. Well, he could do both – but decided on laughing it off and climbing up the ladder to his bed.

"I don't see any ground for competition. Good night." _Take that like you want._ He fell into his bed and reached for his data pad from underneath one of his pillows, wondering if he should watch the news or a movie while falling asleep.

"Of course there isn't, you hate each other's guts. Or so I hope." Barat chuckled. The slick sweetness was back as though it had never been gone. "Well, there's always a tomorrow, and always a chance for a dinner for two. Now excuse me, my friend. I have a hammer swinging krogan to impress with my skill and my weapon."

"Whatever." _Just fuck off!_ Mojo closed the curtain of his bed, welcoming the dark and silence that surrounded him the second he was separated from the rest of the quarter. He activated the data pad, browsing through his selection of movies while he made himself comfortable. Spirits, if he hated anyone's guts right now, then it were Barat's. That vain snob hadn't spoken that frankly about his interest in Arek before, and Mojo was irritated that it bothered him. He had forgotten for a moment that a krogan had indeed joined the third squad, shortly after they had left Omega, and during that moment, he had suspected Barat of wiping up a quick lie, to cover up for other intentions. Then, to his relief, he remembered the krogan – of course Barat wouldn't miss the chance to brag to a warlord about his qualities as a sniper. Good. If the drell found a new drinking buddy – better! Whoever Barat decides to annoy wasn't any of Mojo's business. On the other hand, nothing was. He had better things to do, like deciding on a movie.

 _Besides, he's a biotic. When he can take care of himself against troopers and dragoons, he can fight off a damn horny drell._ The screen flickered in front of his closing eyes. He should turn up the volume if he wanted to hear what was happening, but before he made up his mind if it really mattered, he had fallen asleep.


	15. A Jolly Breakfast Club

Mojo raised his head, his green eyes glowering. A low growl rolled in the back of his throat. He rammed the fork into the piece of meat on his plate, lifted it, and tore a bite off. Slowly chewing, he lowered his mandibles, baring his sharp teeth. The man with the tray in his hand sidestepped away from Mojo's table, and steered towards one that was already occupied. With an apologetic grin he squeezed himself between two other crew members. Mojo held back a chuckle, then bit his tongue to fight down a cough when his food went the wrong way.

The mess was a busy place at every hour. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were offered around the clock to accommodate the different shifts of crew and squad members, and there was always someone in the need of coffee. Like the bar in the lounge, the mess was the place to go to find company, with less alcohol but more food involved.

Mojo took another bite. He had eaten worse - while the meat was too well done for his taste and lacked spices he was glad it was, well, meat. Only few turians were on board, and so far he had seen one quarian, and all of them were lucky that the kitchen added real dextro food to the menu. A piece of meat tough and dry as leather was better than a diet of vitamin-enriched liquids and protein pastes. No, he saw no reason to complain about the food on board of an Alliance - human-centered - ship. If he had to complain, it would be about the noise.

Tired faces smiled over their dinner, lively ones, refreshed from their sleep and a shower, enjoyed a good chat along with their bacon and eggs. It was funny, many levo dishes didn't look much different from what Mojo knew from his home. Yet, he didn't even want to imagine the taste when a scent that reminded him of Omega's sewers crept into his nose. He held his breath, but the smell didn't pass.

"Morning, Mojo!"

Mojo sighed, tearing his eyes away from the group of humans he had been observing. After defending his table for the last half of an hour, his peaceful solitude was destroyed by - Arek, of course. With one of his wide grins on his face, Arek sat down, placing a tray in front of him. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a small bowl with a weird grey sludge.

"It's porridge. Healthy, filling, sweet. Wanna try?" Arek shoved the tablet towards Mojo, also offering him a spoon.

"I don't think I could digest that if it was dextro. Spirits, keep that away from me!" He turned his head away, slowly exhaling, waiting a moment before he dared to breathe again. He was one of the more fortunate individuals of his race who didn't become sick, but he couldn't stand the smell of cooked levo food. There were a few levo dishes that didn't taste like anything to him - or with even a tolerable taste - but even in those rare cases the scent alone made him sick. His brain and stomach dealt better with food that smelled and tasted horrible, than the contradiction of flavorless or acceptable food coming with a revolting stench.

"Why don't you have a seat and keep me company." He put down his fork and pushed his plate away. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair, glaring at the human.

"You're pulling the sarcasm card a bit late." Not in the least flustered, Arek was shoveling the sludge into his mouth. "You're really missing out here. It's Tanya's shift, and she's making a damn good porridge. The others never get the consistence right, and Tidus always adds too much salt. A pinch, to enhance the flavor, I told him, not half a pound!"

Mojo sighed, poking the remains of his dish with the fork. He had slept in far too long, and after skipping dinner the night before he had been starving by the time he climbed out of his bed. After wasting his time in the sickbay while Dr. Wilson had insisted to repeat his whole lecture from the day before, a simple breakfast hadn't sounded satisfying. So he had requested dinner instead, and enjoyed his meal in his own fashion. He should have guessed it wouldn't last, things had been too smooth.

"Not much of a talker after getting up, eh?" Arek had finished his bowl and took a hearty bite from his toast, scattering crumbs across the table.

"Have I ever looked like much of a talker, any time?" In spite of himself, Mojo smirked at the notion that anyone who knew him would expect him to be interested in a lively conversation.

"Nope. Can you tell me if you were criticizing me, or joking about yourself?"

"Read it from my face." Sometimes, Arek was making it too easy for him to tease him, it was boring - almost. Seeing him blush and squirm when confronted with his shortcomings never got old.

"That's fair and unfair at the same time," Arek sighed. He shoved his chair closer to the table, and leaned over his plate, and Mojo realized that his taunt backfired. He fought the impulse to jump up and leave, Palaven would freeze over before he lost this little game to this human. He held still, feeling his mandibles twitching while Arek kept staring at his face, searching it for changes and movement. Mojo refused to return the watching gaze, and pride forbade him to turn his head away. Somebody from the table behind Arek stood up, and Mojo took that as a welcome excuse to study that person's back. The impatient tapping on the top of the table irritated him. He was ready to snap at Arek, when he realized it were the tips of his own short, but pointy claws. He clenched his fingers to a fist, relaxed them, and grabbed the glass of water that was standing on his tray.

"Damn, there's a lot going on! I never noticed! I always thought only those things at the sides could move, but I was wrong." Arek pointed at the plates above the turian's eyes. "They move and twitch, almost like eyebrows, guess that's why it's so easy to tell that you're frowning at me right now." Grinning with satisfaction, Arek picked up his coffee mug, wrapping both his hands around it. "Before that, your nose twitched a bit, not sure what it means, though, but it's kinda cute."

 _Cute?!_ Mojo slammed the glass down on the table, the water spilling over the rim and his hand.

"There!" Arek chuckled, taking a slow sip of coffee, enjoying the situation without a doubt. "You just did it again. Say, does that only happen when you're irritated? Would be a waste."

Mojo wiped his hand dry on his shirt, hissing a curse that escaped the translator. He was grateful that the plating and his dark skin didn't give away how the blood was shooting up his face. He had never understood how humans could live with the knowledge that their faces gave their emotions away so easily. Sure, he had met more than a few that were in control over some of their muscles, but, like eyes, the skin of humans never lied. There was a soft, pink glow on Arek's face, and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Even without the grin, Mojo would have known that this human was amusing himself tremendously, on his, Mojo's, expense. Worse, he couldn't blame him, he had picked on Arek about his inability to interpret turian faces and accused him of being shallow so often, it had to backfire one day.

"Is there a reason why you're noticing that _now?_ You've been best buddies with the kid since day one, how about staring at _her_ face?" The battle wasn't lost yet just because the human won an insignificant fight.

"No idea if that's different for turians, but among humans, staring at other people's faces is pretty impolite. Didn't want to offend her." Without a worry in the world, let alone a hint of guilt, Arek enjoyed his coffee.

"Oh, _Thank you._ " The nerve!

"Hey, _you_ said I should read it from your face." Leaning back, his head tilted and flashing another smile, Arek was well aware of his second victory. He generously waved the hand with the mug, declaring the battle over and changed the topic. "But that aside. Don't you think it's about time you use her name? She's young, yeah, but I can't say Rani's acting like a kid at all."

Mojo was turning the half-empty glass between his thumb and two fingers, tracing a drop with a fingertip. Water was fascinating. The only thing in the known galaxy that was the same everywhere. Levo, dextro, it didn't matter. They all needed the same kind of water, with the same taste to everyone, to survive. He glanced at the steam spiraling from Arek's mug.

 _By the spirits, I 'd kill for a good coffee._ It was a shame that levo coffee was so damn sweet to his tongue, and while the kitchen did an okay job with meat and most vegetables, their dextro coffee was an insult to his tongue. Too thin, and the last time he had given it a chance, too bitter, minus any other flavor - as it was bound to happen when someone with no knowledge about good coffee was in charge of selecting coffee powder. If he had the power to wish Omega to hell, he'd spare that one thrift store. Old, broken parts, scrap metal, nothing of interest, but the owner, a quarian whose pilgrimage had ended between crime and trash, brewed a coffee he'd kill for. Someone once did, that day two unlucky goons tried to rob the store while a trio of Eclipse mercs was haggling with the quarian while enjoying her coffee..

"Mojo?"

Mojo snapped out of his thoughts, lost for a moment - why was he still in the mess, why was Arek sitting across the table and calmly watching him? Ah, yes. That had been the reason why he tried to think of something else in the first place, to forget about the curious gaze that made him self-conscious about the movements in his own face.

"The kid, yeah. A habit, she's young," he tried to recover the thread of the conversation. "You're right though, she's mature for her age, no doubt. Smart kid, very smart."

"You sound like a grandpa when talking like that. That," Arek chuckled, putting down his mug, and pointing at Mojo with a knowing grin. "Or you know turians of that age that aren't that mature. Or - weren't. When they used to be 19, instead of the, what was it, 32 years they're now."

"31, and no, you couldn't be more wrong." His mandibles twitched, and to his annoyance, his nose, too. _Dammit, how long will it take until I stop paying attention to my own damn face after this?!_ He had enough. He put his plate and glass on the tray, and rose from his chair. It was time to find something useful to do with what was left over from this day. With the retrieved data taken from them, their investigation had come to an untimely end. The doc had forbidden any visits to the gym for at least two more days, and as it made sense, Mojo had decided to listen to him.

"Hard to believe when you're chuckling." Arek had gulped down the rest of his coffee and hurried to stand up as well. "So, tell me. What mess did the great Mojo cause when he was tender 19 years old?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

They returned their trays to the kitchen crew. Their table was occupied by new arrivals when they walked past it. The steady pulse of the mess rarely changed, the atmosphere was as lively and as filled with chatter as it had been when Mojo came here. The automatic door closed behind them once they left, and the sudden silence hit them like a wall. Mojo needed a few seconds to adjust to the ever present humming, and to distinguish it from single crew members walking down the corridors. The lights were brighter than inside the mess, where the gentle, yellow light resembled actual daylight. Sometimes, it was too easy to forget that the concept of day and night didn't matter on a space ship, and was only a helpful tool to keep live on board organized.

"So, any plans? Going back to sleep?" Arek was walking by his side, and stopped when they reached the turian's quarter. Mojo didn't have any place in particular in mind, so his steps had led him back here. There was nothing official to do for them today, except filling their reports, and that could wait until later. He didn't feel sleepy, or in the mood to go back to his bed and watch a movie or read, now that he was up and fed.

"Nah. Guess I'll practice some shooting." He shrugged. There wasn't much else to do for him, and handling his rifle was as relaxing to his mind as an hour of good sleep to his body. He looked down at the human. Arek was thinking of an answer, with his head crooked, a slight frown on his face.

"Mind you, Turner, while you are in desperate need of more practice, there's no reason for you to come with me. We're not friends. Go and enjoy your free time with your playmates." His shoulders dropped with the last words spoken. Arek's eyes turned sad, and a shadow of defeat fell over his face. He didn't like that. When Arek was his cheerful self, he could sneer at him, if he was angry, they could have a fight. He didn't know what to make of this kind of expression.

"Say whatever you want to say," Mojo sighed, giving up to find the right thing to say. He could have gone away, and leave him standing where he was, but that hadn't come to his mind until now, and now was too late.

"Why do you fight the idea of us becoming friends?" Arek looked up at him, facing him with grim stubbornness. There, that was more to Mojo's liking. Arek took a deep breath and continued, "See, we thought the worst of each other, and figured we were stupid. All I say is, let's start over, and well, if we still can't stand each other, fine. But I really want to see if we can get along. What's so bad about that?"

 _That one likes, the other dislikes, ever thought about that?_ No, that wasn't the problem, that was all wrong. Mojo admitted that, with his former misconception gone, he could see why Arek had many friends, and certain kind of friends for certain benefits. There were a few things about humans that he liked, even favored over his own species, some physical features to be precise - he aborted the thought.

"Nothing, probably. Just don't force it." If he considered a friendship because he appreciated a few superficial aspects, his moral standards wouldn't be any better than Arek's. The bottom line was, this human was still loud, still annoying, and flippant as a butterfly. If he wanted to he probably could find something likable about him, but he didn't see a reason why. The way he was, the way Arek was, a friendship wouldn't work, and trying was a waste of time.

"Guess you're right. And yeah, gotta say, I'm really not in the mood to waste a free day at the shooting range," Arek laughed, the frown was gone, as was the hint of sadness. "Lunch, later?"

"If we happen to be there at the same time, sure." _See, just as I thought. Back to all happy and sunshine within seconds. Butterfly._ Well, as long as he wasn't forced to organize his free time around Arek, it wouldn't hurt when he didn't go out of his way to avoid him if their paths crossed. For now, Arek seemed satisfied - he smiled, nodded, and most importantly - he was willing to leave Mojo alone and to return to his own quarter. Mojo looked after him for a moment. So this human wasn't the enemy he had thought him to be. Also, he wasn't his friend, or someone who was cut to be the kind of friend Mojo liked to have around. Or the kind of guy who would voluntarily endure Mojo the way he was. He growled in frustration over himself, he was putting more attention into this whole thing than it was worth, and who put attention into something, noticed things.

"Turner."

Arek stopped, turning around with a puzzled face.

"You're limping, more than yesterday."

"I do?" He looked down, stretching one leg, and patted his upper leg. "That one dragoon got me there, guess the scratch will need another day to heal." He forced the flinch away with a grin and shrugged the matter off.

"Didn't the doc check it?"

"Nope. He was busy with you, then Rani, then Crusher called and after that, my bed. Thought it's the best if I just leave it alone."

Mojo rolled his eyes, and gestured him to come back. Not less puzzled, Arek walked back to the turian. He tried to conceal the pain in his legs, but Mojo didn't miss how Arek pressed his lips together as he moved.

"And now?"

Mojo didn't answer. He knelt down, and his hands clenched around Arek's upper legs, giving them a hearty squeeze. Arek cried out, jumping back.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"Too firm, too warm. Go to the doc before the infection eats your flesh away." Mojo stood up, turned around, and opened the door to his quarter. It was time that he got his Viper and finally did some shooting.

"You're worrying," Arek stated behind him; Mojo didn't have to look at him to know he was grinning.

"You're useless when you can't bounce around in combat, that's all." He hurried inside and closed the door behind him. He didn't want to hear an answer, or to go through the endless cycle of dodging assumptions that provoked new assumptions again.

"Wasn't that Arek?" Barat was sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He had dismantled his rifle, a Widow. The parts were scattered on the table, around his resting feet. Three or four were lying on his lap. He was lazily cleaning another one with a soft cloth.

Mojo gave a grunt in place of a reply and headed for his locker. He stretched, opened it, looked thoughtfully inside. If he returned to the corridor too soon, he feared he'd run again into Arek. He glanced at the door, half expecting it to open and Arek following him.

"You should've invited him inside," Barat whistled, looking through a part of the barrel. "I'd have been delighted to share a conversation with him. What a puzzle, that you can't see what a charming young man he is. And his hair, such a pretty color."

"It's red. That's all." A pretty, rich red he hadn't seen before, and Barat was going on his nerves with his infatuation. "Why don't you- forget it." Mojo held his tongue. Asking Barat to tell him once he figured out if red hair felt different to touch than dark or blond hair would rise unwanted questions. He grabbed his Viper and stomped out of the room, and finally down to the shooting range - the obviously only place left on this damn ship where he wouldn't be confronted with Arek, or people talking about him.


	16. A Chapter Full of Scheeming

The last few hours had been so nice. Not many others had felt like shooting today, and Mojo had been delighted to hav the shooting range to himself most of the time. Noveria had punched a dent into his confidence. On Omega he had made a name of himself as an expert sniper. That reputation - and quick thinking when it counted - had paved the way that led him to the Armiger Legion, and from there… to the Alliance and finally to that forsaken ice planet that almost killed him, and, worse, let him look useless at what he had always considered to be his best skill.

Today, he needed a reminder of what he was good at. He hadn't wasted his time with practice rounds on static targets, but selected a harder difficulty, and quickly went to the hardest difficulty - moving targets, fully points awarded only when the tiny bull's eye was hit within a short time frame. It had felt good to fire his weapon, even when it wasn't in a fight. The sound of the rifle firing, the recoil, the dull thump when the practice ammunition hit the artificial creatures - yes, he had needed that. Now he was looking forward to another mission where he could prove his skill during combat, well, as long as there wasn't another snow storm.

He sighed. He had hardly locked the Viper away when a call reached him. Amalthea, who asked to meet her and the others, to talk about something concerning the last mission. That was all, or all she had dared to say, he assumed, in case somebody listened. Yet, if she feared somebody would overhear their conversation, then he could only wonder about her decision to meet in the lounge. Or, maybe, he was mistaken, and her call had another reason. The mystery could have been solved more than 20 minutes ago, if she opened her mouth and started talking already. He prayed to the Spirits that this hadn't been a trick to lure him to some kind of squad party.

"So, what was it again why we're here?" He shifted on his seat. Amalthea had already been waiting when he arrived, sitting on one of the sofas with a wide, satisfied smile. He had no idea how she had managed to keep both sofas free, but he could imagine a scenario or two, and both involved more of her krogan than of her asari blood. Too bad, he would have liked to watch her biting away the poor fools who tried to cross her. Maybe she could give him some pointers how to scare humans away, especially pesky redheads who wouldn't stop acting like it was their fate to be friends.

"We'll talk once Arek as here, as I've told you the last three times you asked."

"Five times," Meyrani corrected. She was sitting on the opposite sofa, a laptop resting on her crossed legs. She had been smirking at the screen since she had opened the computer; as much as Mojo hated to admit it, he was curious about what amused her so much, and if it had anything to do with the reason why they were here. Well, he could have asked her, but he didn't saw the point. If it was relevant, he'd hear it soon enough, if not, he wouldn't receive an answer. He looked around, past the few faces that walked through the room, that stopped to exchange a greeting, continue their round or joined a group of other faces. It wasn't as crowded here as the mess had been earlier today, it should be easy to spot a pale redhead with a too wide grin. The irony that he was hoping for the one person to show up that he wanted to avoid deserved another drink. He raised, headed for the bar and asked the barkeeper for another glass of turian ale, the better stuff from Palaven. The barkeeper nodded, and refilled his glass without a word. A pleasant guy, never forced a conversation on him, or bothered him with inappropriate curiosity. Mojo took his drink and returned to his two squad mates. His ribs ached when he let himself fall back onto his spot on the sofa, but he shut the pain up with a long draft from his ale. There were many things he had to say about Palaven, especially turians from Palaven. Even more precise - a lot of bad things. Arrogant, snobbish bastards, who considered themselves to be some kind of queen race, far above other species and turians from the colonies. But they had some fine breweries, he had to give them that.

"Finally," he muttered into his drink. Arek stepped through the door, a smile on his face and still limping, but not as badly as before as Mojo noticed. He suspected that it would take Arek's legs to fall off before he wouldn't smile or grin.

"Sorry, I was at the med bay when your call came, and the doc wouldn't let me go sooner." Arek sat down by Meyrani's side.

"They kept you for hours? Because of a few cuts?"

"Nah. I, well… I went there just a bit ago, after hanging out with Kalron." Arek tilted his head, giving Mojo a mischievous grin.

"You're an idiot."

"Keep the smooth talking for later, boys. Arek, is everything okay? Anything that Mojo knows and that I should know?" With a stern look, Amalthea put her wine glass on the table between them. Arek shook his head.

"Just a flesh wound I got when Cerberus tried to mess with me. I'll be as good as new in a day or two. Gimme another moment, I'll get myself a drink." He was about to stand up when Mojo gestured him to stay where he was.

"You can drink later. The sooner our Miss Leader spits out why we're here, the sooner we can be done with it."

Arek hesitated, looking at Amalthea, who shrugged. Shrugging as well he sat down again, very much to Mojo's satisfaction. The end of the recent shift was coming closer, and he wanted to be out of here before the next wave of crew members streamed into the lounge.

"It's about Cerberus, as you all probably have guessed already," Amalthea began. "And don't worry, Mojo, this won't fill the evening, but I didn't want to send a traceable message." Mojo nodded. Yes, that made sense. There was a good chance that Crusher had given order to keep a closer eye on their omni-tools, and on the messages they exchanged. He doubted that they'd spy on every thing they did, humans were too crazy about respecting privacy, even when it was related to work. But short messages, shared between the four of them, containing certain keywords should be enough to raise some suspicions. It was just like her, doing everything to avoid clashing with her superiors. However, Mojo was relieved that they weren't done with Cerberus' involvement in the incident on Omega yet.

"You think it's wise to talk about that _here?_ People here smell gossip quicker than a varran sniffs blood." He glanced at two female humans who strolled past their small group, chatting, and sending a wink and a smile at Arek, who waved back at them. Mojo rolled his eyes; was there anyone except him left on the ship who wasn't best friends with this guy? Barat came to his mind, but the drell didn't count, as it was Arek's choice to avoid him. A good choice, Mojo acknowledged. A picture flashed up in his mind, of Barat, trying again to get closer to an Arek who wasn't so unwilling - Mojo poured the rest of his drink into his mouth. The glee he felt was ridiculous, the thought that Arek would rather… that Arek rather approached him than Barat, who so obviously hit on him, amused him far too much.

"And that's why," Amalthea finished.

"What?" Damn, his mind had been wandering, and he hadn't heard one word of Amalthea's reply. The asari groaned, and fell back into the cushions.

"I said, if we met somewhere alone, with no one around, it would raise suspicion, but nobody would suspect us to talk about something we shouldn't in a setting like this. Got it now? Meyrani, fill them in, I'll get another drink." She stood up and left the three alone. Meyrani lifted her head for the first time since she had arrived, still that smirk on her face.

"It's really not much, and won't solve the big mystery." She typed on her computer. Arek stretched his neck, trying to peek on the screen, but she closed the laptop, and shot a glare at him that Arek understood without trouble - he muttered an apology, and moved a few inches away from her.

"I don't have any of the data you guys retrieved. Yet. But I got a bit of information about Price's involvement with Dinra and Omega. Do you remember?"

"Dinra, asari, involved with the Eclipse on Omega," Arek recited, his head tilted back, his eyes towards the ceiling as he searched his memory. "And Boris Price, human, involvement with Cerberus, and Dinra, right?" He beamed all over his face when Meyrani nodded. Amalthea returned, with a glass of wine and a bottle of beer that she offered Arek, who gladly excepted.

"Did you get to it already?" she asked while returning to her place.

"No, only rehearsing so far. Anyway, we were onto something. We do know that Dinra once had ties with the Eclipse on Omega, and so did Murakos. So far that wasn't proof for anything. Here's what's new." She put her laptop on the table, moving closer to the edge of her seat. Her hand stroke over the black case of the computer while she spoke with a lowered voice. The others moved closer to her. Mojo looked around. When he was sure that nobody was close enough to listen he leaned in as well.

"The Eclipse cut ties with Dinra three years ago, a few month after Murakos had left the Eclipse. Around that time, a contact of Price was busy on Omega. He changed his names a few times, even while he was there, the last he used was Hermes."

"A human?" Arek put down his beer. "Hermes is a figure in Greek mythology, from Earth. He was the messenger of the Gods," he explained, but Meyrani shook her head.

"Turian."

"Why would a turian use a name from Greek mythology, and why would he work with Cerberus?"

"We don't know yet, Arek, but there's more. About two years ago, Hermes and Dinra disappeared from Omega. In the year before, not only Murakos left the Eclipse. Within four months, before they left, seven more Eclipse members disappeared overnight. And five more closely associated with the Blue Suns, and more than a dozen from the Blood Pack."

"Sounds like a lot," Mojo interrupted, "But gang members come and go. Some quit, some are liquidated, some shoot each other over nothing, or just run away, back home."

"You're right of course, but this is different. They disappeared without _any_ traces, no hints, no bodies, nothing. And I'm not finished." She put her computer back on her lap, holding onto it when she leaned back. "Those numbers I mentioned have something in common, with around 120 more citizens who left Omega around that time. Civilians, security…"

"Get to the point, kid."

"Turians. They're all turians." Meyrani and Amalthea watched the faces of the two men while the news were sinking in. Amalthea was nipping on her drink, while Meyrani's fingers glided along the frame of her laptop, as though she had to withstand the urge to open it again. Arek and Mojo exchanged a look.

"Don't look at me, I'm not one of them. Just because I-"

"Geez, Mojo, stop it already." Arek glared at him, his cheeks crimson, but with genuine anger, not guilt, if Mojo wasn't mistaken. "I know you left Omega to join that turian special army unit, and that you were promoted from there to join us because you pissed off too many guys around you. That's not what I'd call 'disappearing without a trace'."

"Sorry. What are you staring at me?" He growled at the two women who looked at him in surprised amusement. "What's the rest of the story?"

Amalthea hid her smile behind her glass, while Meyrani smirked openly at him when she continued, "There's not much more yet. To sum it up, we suspected that Murakos might have been involved with Dinra and/or Boris Price, who are involved with gang affairs and Cerberus. New is, that a turian who called himself Hermes is or was involved with Price, and that, when his stay on Omega came to an end, at least 125 turians disappeared.

"Do you think they were killed?" Arek asked. The color was gone from his face, the frown was still there.

"That's possibility, but unlikely if we count Murakos as one of them, and he was quite alive a few days ago." Meyrani shook her head, and raised her chin.

"I think they joined something, or someone."

"It sounds strange, turians joining Cerberus." Amalthea had crossed her arms in front of her chest, the fingers of her right hand tapping on her left upper arm. "Or any organization that somehow is linked to Cerberus activity. Of course all this might be a coincidence, we're still more following a hunch here than facts. Well, that's all we have, for now."

"What do you mean, that's all?" Mojo jumped up, but Amalthea gestured him to calm down, casting a quick look to their left. The lounge had filled with another handful of crew members. They had steered towards the bar, and hearing Mojo flare up promised the right kind of entertaining to go well with their colorful drinks. Mojo got the hint, and sat down.

"You throw a conspiracy theory on the table like a bone in front of a starving vorcha, and that's all? Where did you get these number from, kid? The names? We didn't find anything like that when we were searching for it!"

"I have a reliable source, let's leave it at that." She patted the laptop, but her voice was cold, and the smile was gone. She wasn't kidding - if he wanted to learn more, Mojo would have to beat it out of her. A mysterious source she didn't wish to talk about, interesting.

"So this thing is getting bigger and weirder." Arek stared thoughtfully at his empty bottle, his hands clenching the fabric of his pants where they covered his injury. "What are we gonna do now?"

"That's what I want to ask you." Amalthea's voice was serious as she spoke. "Our hands are tied. If we do any more solo runs we'll lose our jobs, and when we have to leave the ship, we lose our mobility and resources. The question is - do we want to do this for our ego, or to stop whatever is going on? What is our priority?"

"To stop whatever is going on, of course! It's the right thing!" Arek's back straightened as he answered with confident passion.

"And when the right thing is our priority, you're going to Crusher," Mojo stated. Amalthea and Meyrani nodded.

"That's correct. But I want to hear what you have to say. I want to convince him to give us access to the stolen data, and that the case will be returned to us, or that we'll at least be allowed to help working on it. Yet, there's still a chance that we'll get in more trouble if I talk to him. I'll only do it when you all agree that it's the right thing to do. We either do that and risk to be hung together, or forget about the whole thing. These are our only options."

Mojo saw a third option - working on this on their own, all risks included. For that, they needed the data they had stolen from Cerberus. He saw no reason why they wouldn't be able to do it again, this time from the Alliance. If they followed that idea, however, they'd lose everything else, as Amalthea had said. No, he wrapped up the plan and pushed it out of his mind. The possible benefits didn't outweigh the certain loses.

"Talk to him. Find a good excuse why we didn't mention it earlier." Mojo picked up his empty glass and stood up. "Meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'll get another drink, before we lose access to the bar once Crusher kicked us out of the airlock in person." He had no desire to listen to the rest of the debate. Meyrani and Amalthea had made up their minds. Arek had given his answer, and he would stick with it.

He gave a chuckle. There really was no doubt about that, wasn't it? Amazing, how his perception had changed in a matter of a few days. Less than a week ago Mojo would have thought differently, hell, he himself would have decided differently. For better reasons of course, hunting down Murakos was his priority, and he'd do that alone if he had to. As for Arek - he had apologized on Omega, trusted him on Noveria, and he hadn't left Mojo left behind when he had the chance. Finally, Arek had defended him in front of the captain. All that was difficult to ignore, even for his stubborn mind. Mojo would have suspected him to jump at decisions that saved the human's own ass before, he couldn't do so now.

"One more!" he called, and shoved the glass towards Patrick. The barkeeper nodded, holding up three fingers, for the three minutes he would need to finish another order. Mojo didn't mind, this would give him a quiet moment before he had to choose between leaving and returning to his squad mates. He leaned against the bar's counter, he watched them. With their sombre faces and frowns it was a miracle they hadn't caught the attention of everyone else in the room. Most people coming her wanted to relax, and, of course, gossip, either spread it, trade it, or find it. Amalthea's reasoning why it was better for them to talk here than in a quiet corner made sense, but she had obviously forgotten that their squad had already been the in the focus of gossip over the last few weeks. Well, he couldn't deny that he was to blame for that, and now his behavior was coming back and biting him in the ass. All because of a mistake in his judgement. His life could be easier if he had just made clear that he preferred solitude about random companionship, but no, of course he had to act like a rabid vorcha in a china shop. That was all Arek's fault, and if Mojo only kept repeating that in his mind, maybe he would believe it himself. Humans, nothing but trouble, probably the only thing the older turian generations were right about. And yet, they were so oddly, well, compatible. So tempting - not despite, but because of their physical differences. He cursed the day years ago, when he had given in to his curiosity. Yes, humans were tempting. That he wasn't the only non-human on board who agreed with that comforted him, although he wished someone else than that drell shared his fascination.

 _Look who we have here. Gotta leave it to him, he is persistent when he put his mind to something. Or someone._ He smirked at the awkward silent that had fallen over the trio. Somebody tapped on Mojo's shoulder - Patrick, with the new drink.

"Looks like somebody's claiming your spot." Patrick was gone before Mojo could answer. Funny, that the bartender would comment on Barat's arrival. If Mojo didn't misinterpret his team's faces and gestures, they didn't invite the drell to sit down with much enthusiasm, but he didn't seem to be interested in sitting down by Amalthea's side anyway. Barat was standing behind the sofa with Meyrani and Arek, smiling, his large, black eyes sparkling in the artificial light. He bent over, his arms lying on the backrest, between Mojo's two squadmates, but slightly leaning towards Arek. Mojo was sure that wasn't by accident. Arek's pose was stiff, and he stared at the table, talking with a weak, polite smile. Finally, Amalthea pointed at the free seat next to her, but Barat shook his head. Then, he moved behind Arek, and put his hands on his shoulders. Whatever he said, it made the two women laugh. Arek, however, showed a forced grin as he replied, and began to rise.

Mojo slammed his glass on the table. Without another thought, he crossed the room with few, long strides and stood by the group before Arek was standing.

"Mojo, there you are!" Barat laughed, his hands still touching Arek. "I was invited to sit with your wonderful friends, but I declined. It would have been preposterous if I had taken your seat while there was still the slightest chance of you rejoining! And can you imagine, Arek finally allows me to treat him for dinner!"

"Too bad that he's an idiot who can't remember his appointments. We have to be somewhere, excuse us." Under the surprised eyes of Barat, Amalthea and Meyrani, he grabbed Arek's arm, pulled him up, and dragged the overwhelmed human out of the lounge.

x x x

 _Author's Note_

 _Most of the next chapter is naughty. That's why it will be very short here on ffnet, I'm sorry for that! I'll, however, tell you where to find the full chapter, don't worry!_


	17. Theory and Practice of the Inversion of

_Author's Note_

 _Censored version, exclusive for ffnet._

 _Find the full chapter here: archivofourownDOTorg /works/4939165/chapters/13064560_

* * *

"Now, that was odd." Her eyes wide, Amalthea looked after them, and took a sip from her glass. Meyrani was looking over her shoulder until Arek and Mojo had disappeared, and turned back to her closed laptop. Barat was still standing, still gasping for air and at loss what to say.

"I'm sorry, Barat." Amalthea and the drell would never be firm friends, but she acknowledged his skill as an infiltrator. Also, to see this usually so confident man so befuddled and disappointed stirred her sympathy. "These two have still to sort some things out between them. But I'm sure Arek will get back to you once he has time. Do you want to sit down?" She was relieved when he shook his head; while inviting him to join them was the polite thing to do she couldn't imagine that an evening listening to him would have been very pleasing. Meyrani, too, had slightly shaken her head, her mouth forming a silent 'no' at Amalthea's suggestion.

"I'm grateful for your kindness, and as lovely as you ladies are, charming conversation and sweet drinks don't fill an empty stomach well. If you excuse me?"

Of course they excused him, as gracefully as they could, well aware and not caring at all that they could never rival his courteous act. Both women sighed when he was finally out of earshot.

"It's bad enough to share a room with him," Meyrani said, showing her teeth. "He talks and talks and talks. I swear, if he hadn't left I would have thrown all dignity aside and pretended to faint!" Amalthea laughed at the passionate declaration; it was more amusing as it came from the usually so collected young turian.

"So, what about us now, after three guys deserted us? Getting drunk?" She pointed at Meyrani's still full bottle. "You haven't even touched yours yet."

"I know, and it's just water anyway. But sure, why not. Give me a few minutes, I have to write a quick mail." She opened the laptop, waited for the screen to pop up, and began to type. Amalthea watched her face, sure she caught her smiling.

"Updating your source, right? Seems to be a nice fellow, judging by that smirk of yours." She pointed a finger at her, winking while she spoke with pretended shock. "Meyrani, if I didn't know better, I'd accuse you of flirting!"

"You're right with everything you've said. It's my source, he's charming, and you better believe that I'm enjoying a few flirty words here and there."

"Rani, but what's with Sellrin?! I thought you two were serious!"

"We are. But you know how Salarians are, and there are some things he cannot give me." She sighed and looked up from her laptop. "He's wonderful, and he said his brain, his heart and his hand to hold are mine. But for everything else… Do you have any idea how this is? Being with a great man like him, but never doing more than holding hands? By the spirits, it drives me crazy when Mojo undresses in our quarter, and more than once I was so close to hit on Arek! And I don't even know how a human's dick is like!" She ended her passionate speech with a groan, and fell back against the back of her seat, giving a growl of frustration.

"Meyrani! You sound like a horny teenager!" she scolded with pretended shock.

"I AM a horny teenager!"

"You… are right!" Amalthea chuckled, but put on a straight face. The meaning of the words hadn't caught her off-guard, but that they came from Meyrani, who was their squad's prime example of calmness and tactful reserve. that the broke out of her as though they had been boiling inside of her for some time was an unexpected change, but showed how young she still was, and what a good actress most of the time. Remembering her early maiden years very well, Amalthea saw the dilemma of the young woman. There wasn't much she could do except expressing her sympathy, and listening with amused delight. "I'm sorry. I've never been in a similar situation, I can only imagine it's not always easy. But flirting with others? I'm not sure if that's the solution."

"You see, sex isn't more than a body function to reproduce to him," she explained flatly, scratching the side of her head, where the fringe ended. "He doesn't connect it with romantic feelings and comradeship. He said, if I need it and do it with another man, he'd feel about it like I was shaking hands, or sparring."

"Makes sense." The concept of a whole race that was indifferent to the pleasures and emotional connections physical love could bring was still foreign to her, but it worked for the salarian while offering a solution for a sexual partner. "So, why don't you just do it? I mean, you're pretty and smart. I'm sure you'd find a man just for sex without a problem."

"Of course I would, but the problem is that I'm a horny teenager with morals. I want to care for the whole package, not just a dick." She had returned to her email. There was something grim about how her mandibles moved as she stared at the screen with narrowed eyes. "Don't misunderstand me, I don't mind what others do, but it's just not my thing." With a sigh, she finished the mail and sent it. She closed the laptop, and picked up her water.

"That's good, for a second I feared you're looking down on our frivolous biotic."

"Not at all! As long as Arek doesn't hurt anyone, I don't care with whom or how many he sleeps. Well, I admit that I'm maybe a little jealous that he can enjoy himself so freely." She smiled, and put down her water after hardly drinking any. "Didn't you say something about getting drunk?"

"So drunk until we can't stand anymore. And, young lady, if you want," Amalthea offered her a hand to help her up, "You can flirt with me all the way you want." They were both laughing as they walked to the bar, Meyrani holding her laptop under her arm, Amalthea patting her friend's back.

x x x

Mojo was dragging Arek through the corridor, blind to the people they encountered, and to the questioning looks he was getting. They were standing in the elevator, the doors had just close, when he let go of Arek's arm.

"Boy, it's impressive what strength only three fingers have." Arek rubbed his arm, grinning at the turian.

"Sorry."

"I'm hearing that a lot from you these day - or rather, this day. If you keep it up I'm getting used to it." He was joking, but Mojo didn't pay any attention to his words. He was staring at the panel with the deck names. After a second of hesitation, he selected one of the upper decks.

"Where are we going?" Arek tried again. A hint of unease tinted his easy-going voice when he didn't receive an answer. Mojo looked down at him, studying the pale face with the lively green eyes. Now he had done it. For one moment, he had stopped thinking and brought himself into this grotesque situation. He could continue to beat around the bush, but if he did, matters would become worse.

"Are you still serious about your suggestion? The one you made in that office?" There, that wasn't that difficult. Whatever had gotten into him when he saw Barat touching this human, it still hadn't left him. Maybe it had just been too long since the last time he had been with a human, that would explain a few of the things that were shooting through his mind since the moment he had let go of his prejudiced grudge against Arek.

"What - oh!" The sudden smile on Arek's face was reassuring, and a lot better than being laughed at, as Mojo had feared for a moment. He froze when Arek took a step forward and raised his hand. The delicate, slim fingers glided along the turian's throat. The other hand glided down his waist and rested on his hip.

"Sure. Wouldn't say something like that if I didn't mean it." He reached for Mojo's face, but he turned his head away. "Nervous? Hey, it's just about a little fun. Turning negative energy into positive, remember?"

"I remember, and I'm not nervous." The elevator saved him from explaining his thoughts to Arek and to himself. He shoved Arek's hands away and walked outside. "Come."

"Where are we going," Arek repeated the question. They were in the part of the deck that was called the 'office wing' by most of the crew. Working here, or being called here, was boring to most people on board. The more interesting things happened on the engine or cargo deck, the labs and of course the training and leisure time facilities. Even navigation was more exciting, although the working shift was rarely up for a conversation.

They were walking past a large office, the only one they caught voices from behind the closed door, and the only one that was occupied 24 hours a day. It was one of the administrative office that handled incoming and outgoing paperwork, reports, orders. Otherwise, this part of the ship was empty, with nobody present to wonder what business a turian had to do here, hurrying through the corridor, followed by a human who had to pay attention to keep up.

"Wait, isn't that…" Arek caught his breath when they walked down another intersection that led to only one single door.

"Hackett's office. Stay over there." He activated his omni-tool, typing blindly while he stared at the camera at the upper corner across the door. A moment later, a small light flickered, and turned back to green. "It will loop the recordings of the last few hours. Got that trick from the kid. You'd think she's the one who lived on Omega for years. There, the door's open."

They sneaked into the office. It felt larger and more empty without the presence of the Admiral. The few furniture were spotless, and no book or folder was out of order. The simple, dark desk was empty, and the office chair behind it looked forlorn and deserted with its polished leather, as though it had been used before. Mojo looked around, checking the place for more cameras, but as it seemed, the admiral valued his privacy during his rare visits on this ship. Good, if there was anything good about the situation he had brought himself into. Arek chuckled behind him.

"Did we just break into the Admiral's office to fuck? Dammit, Mojo, that's gold!"

He cringed at the choice of words, but Arek was spot-on, and it was funny. A fraction of his sense of humor sparked up, and he calmed down a little.

"Are you really sure about this?" He turned towards the human, the grin leaving now doubt about the answer. For Arek, this was less about sex, but all the more about curiosity.

"Maybe I should ask you that question." Arek closed the distance between them. Mojo shrugged, remaining silent when Arek reached for his face, the fingertips touching his mandible so lightly he hardly felt it through the plating. The hand wandered down, over the turian's chest, but hesitated. As a nervous twitch weakened Arek's grin, Mojo felt himself relax.

"I'm… a little lost here. How do I, you know, touch you the good way?" There was a genuine look of helplessness in the human's face that was touching. That was the moment something of Mojo's inner defense broke, as he finally was able to grasp that he had been in the wrong before, beyond just knowing it. That had led him here, standing in front of a human whose skin looked so soft and whose unusual hair he wanted to touch.

"So, I guess you haven't found much time for some… research?" he couldn't help teasing. Arek tensed, his eyes following Mojo's hand as it came closer to his face. The talon of one finger touched the blushed cheek, and moved along the throat, careful not to hurt the white skin.

"Eh, I guess I haven't. I'm sorry. You won't rip me to pieces because of that, will you?" he laughed, but Mojo noticed the hint of nervousness.

"Looks like you have to trust me here." He chuckled as he let his fingers glide over Arek's neck, and finally, through his hair. It was soft, and smoothed and Mojo wished it was longer. He felt how Arek shuddered when the rough skin of his fingers moved back to the human's neck.

"Well, sounds like that settles the question who takes it." The jest was back to Arek's laugh, as he relaxed under the turian's touch.

"That was never up for discussion." Mojo grabbed Arek's neck and took a step forward, pushing the human back until he hit the wall behind him. He leaned closer, slowly breathing against Arek's ear.

"If you're up to the challenge," he whispered, letting the flanging in his voice linger. Once Arek nodded, he moved down, his teeth grazing along the slender throat. Arek tilted his head, exposing more skin. Mojo was tempted to bite, but didn't dare to leave marks. Instead, his tongue liked along the curve, warm and rough against the softness. He breathed against the thin, moist trail, growling when Arek shuddered.

* * *

 _This part could be filled with smut if the rules allowed it ~_

* * *

They stood in silence, waiting for their breath and their hearts to slow down.

"Don't get a wrong idea, we're still not friends." Mojo recovered his voice as soon as his mind began to work again. He let go of Arek, looking around.

"Aren't you romantic. Hey, what are you doing?" Arek's chuckle broke off when Mojo reached for his foot and lifted it enough from the floor to pull of the sock.

"Teamwork. I do the work, you provide the materials." He wiped Arek's back clean from the result of his climax. The scratches were burning red from sweat and the friction between the bare back and Mojo's shirt, and the hard chest beneath. A bruise was already taken shape where his sternum had pressed into the skin, right beside the spine.

"I'm sorry." His fingers lingered above the marks as he apologized for them, and for his helpless struggle to cover his insecurity of what to say with his usual rude ways, turning them into the act of pretense he didn't want them to be. He threw the soiled sock to the floor, took a few steps back and pulled up his pants.

"Come on, shut up about that already. A good fuck is worth a few bruises. God damn…" With a groan, Arek lost the strength in his legs, he collapsed against the wall, gliding down to his knees.

"What's wrong?" In honest alarm Mojo knelt down by his side. Dammit, if he had pulled out too late, if Arek showed an allergic reaction, or even went in shock… Could there be a reaction from his semen because of the scratches?

"It's my legs. Guess that's what the doc meant when he said I shouldn't overexercise my muscles for at least a day."

Mojo looked at Arek's upper legs. The dragoon's whip had left two deep cuts that had been closed by the doctor, but the scars and the skin around them glowed with an alarming red. He had forgotten about his own injuries, intuitively choosing a position that didn't hurt him, smart and selfish as he was, and Arek's wounds had slipped his mind. His eyes searched the floor, and he picked up the tube with the medical lotion.

"Here, there's still some left." He pushed it into Arek's hands. Then, after a short moment of hesitation, he shoved his arms under Arek's knees and around his back, and lifted him up. He was light in his arms, and through his own clothes, Mojo felt he naked body shivering.

"What…?" Arek looked up at him in confusion. Mojo refused to answer, or to look back at him. He walked over and around the desk, and gave the office chair a little kick to turn it around.

"Take a rest," he muttered, lowering Arek into the chair. Then, he walked back to fetch Arek's clothes, bundled them up and put them on the desk, propping Arek's feet on top of them. Finally, he pulled the second sock from Arek's other foot.

"Wow, Mojo, that's actually-"

"Put that stuff were the doc told you to put it. If it doesn't get better, see him. Spirits, you left a bit of a mess here. Imagine Hackett decides to visit later." He laughed as he cleaned the wall and the carpet as good as he could with the sock, and tossed it to Arek's shoes once he was done. To his relief, Arek didn't say another word, but he sensed that he was watched with those bright green eyes, and, worse, probably with a grin on the face.

"I know this was just sex and nothing sweet and schmaltzy. I prefer it that way anyway, as you might know," Arek said after Mojo returned to him. "It was damn good, and I want to do it again sooner or later. What do you think?"

Mojo sat down on the desk, crossing his arms and stretching his long legs. He glanced at the cuts, certain that he had been right earlier this day when he assumed an infection. He should insist that Arek checked with the doctor, just to be safe.

"Sure, why not," was all what he said in the end. The human's well-being wasn't his concern, unless while they were sleeping with each other. A hint of doubt nagged on his mind, if it really was a good idea to agree to a sexual relationship with Arek. Sure, he didn't need an emotional bound to enjoy himself once in a while, and yes, it had been good. Yet, something in him warned him to stay away from him, to leave now before any other word was said, to forget about all this and to go back to his every day business.

"I guess that's kind of a stupid question, but you've been with humans before, right?" Arek shook his head with a smile when Mojo only chuckled. "Obviously. Would never have thought you were into humans, not after how you've treated me all the time."

"That had nothing to do with you being a human."

"Just with you thinking I was an asshole." Arek dismissed that old debate with a wave of his hand. "I'm surprised how different you were while, you know. Damn, now even I have a problem to just say 'while you fucked me with that hot cock of yours'." He laughed, and stretched his arms and back in the comfortable chair, avoiding to move or tense up his legs more than necessary. "Guess I saw - or better, felt your true self, eh?"

The smile vanished from Mojo's face and from his mind, his shoulders stiffened at Arek's words. That was what he got for staying - stupid talk that smashed all the wrong buttons. Well, whatever illusion Mojo had entertained about Arek since they closed the office door behind them, it shattered and returned him to the world as it was.

"It's called facets. Just because I behave differently when I sleep with someone it doesn't mean the way I am during a mission or, you know, when not having sex, isn't true. It means not having a one dimensional personality, understand? Nah, of course you don't get it. I'm done wasting my time here." He pushed himself from the desk and turned away. He had caught the hurt looked on Arek's face and didn't want to care.

"It's better when we don't sneak out here together. Make sure to put the chair back where it was and close the door when you leave." _Fuck this_. This wasn't the outcome he had wanted or hoped for, hell, he didn't want to hope for anything in the first place. It was just… Mojo had thought he had known better, of course a guy like Arek would only understand what or who was like himself. Of course Mojo had to expect that, if he didn't keep his distance, Arek would take that as an invitation to somehow squeeze Mojo into his narrowed view of the world, accepting no other explanations or ways that didn't mirror his ideas. What surprised him was how the fact hurt him when he had been so sure that he didn't care. This wasn't good, that wasn't good at all. He had to get out of here.

"Mojo, wait! What did I… Hey! That's not fair!" Arek called after him, but Mojo walked through the door and closed it behind him. So what if it wasn't fair, that was life, it rarely was fair. He straightened his clothes and headed for the elevator.


End file.
